Switching Lives
by Ely-Baby
Summary: After a nasty fight with Hermione, Harry wishes that all the things that had happened to him because of Voldemort, would happen to Hermione. But when his wish comes true, is he really happy with what he got? R
1. Wishing on a Star

Disclaimer: I don't live in the U.K., I'm not blonde, I don't have three children… guess what? I'm not J.K. Rowling! Oh, and I'm not Miriam Stockley as well, because the title of this chapter is a song for her (or better, I don't know who really is the author of this song, but I love Miriam Stockley's version, the one used for "The 10th Kingdom").

A/N: I know, my fourth WIP, and my courses are going to start in a couple of weeks. So, well, maybe updates will be a little slow, but I really wanted to upload this. I like it. About the pairing, this story is very slightly a Hermione/Harry one. You'll see what I mean. Now, enjoy this chapter, my Harry remembers a little the fifth year one…

To Tori: Thanks a lot for beta-reading this chapter.

**Wishing on a Star**

"Harry, have you finished your essay?"

Harry raised his eyes from the piece of parchment, which he had been staring at since before dinner, and looked at Hermione. She was glancing back at him apprehensively. The red light that came from the fire in the hearth was dancing on her face. They were the only two people left in the Gryffindor common room. Everybody, even Ron, was already off to bed.

"No," he answered angrily. "I haven't even started it, if that's what you want to know."

"Do you need some help?"

Harry looked at her intently. Hermione was offering her help for homework. That was surely something that had never happened, at least not so spontaneously. Usually Harry and Ron had to beg her to correct their works, only _correct_ them.

Harry shook his head. "No, I don't need your help, because I'm not going to do this essay," he said forcefully.

Hermione collapsed onto the armchair near him. "I don't think that Professor McGonagall will be very happy if you don't hand in the essay tomorrow," she stated seriously.

"Hermione, I don't give a damn about her being happy or unhappy," snapped Harry. "And I don't give a damn about this bloody essay."

Filled with disappointment, Hermione didn't reply, and that just made Harry angrier. He really wanted to argue with somebody. He needed to argue with somebody.

"I can let you _copy_ my essay if you want," said Hermione gently, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

Harry looked at her. "No, I told you that I don't need to copy your stupid essay."

Hermione sighed. "Listen, Harry, there's no reason to be so harsh. I was just offering my help."

"I-do-not-need-it," replied Harry, stressing every single word nastily. "It's all just a waste of time," he added, standing up and shoving his books in his bag.

"You know, it's not your fault that you've been forced to come back to Hogwarts for your final year, instead of going to look for the Horcruxes," said Hermione softly.

Harry looked at her, surprised. "Of course it's not, Hermione," he snapped.

"And it's not mine, either," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

"I wasn't thinking that," he said hastily.

"Well, you could be less awful, then," she said calmly.

Harry let his bag fall to the floor. "_What_?" he asked, anger building up inside him.

"It's not exactly like you've been very friendly lately," stated Hermione, looking at her hands. "Always jumping down my throat, like everything that happened is my fault," she said, her tone a little bit harsher than she meant it to be.

"I'm not jumping down your throat," he said, heatedly.

"You are. As if I wanted us to be here instead of out there, looking for the Horcruxes while Voldemort-"

"It's not exactly like you're having to rough of a time being here," he cut her off. "Being made Head Girl and having the honourable assignment of keeping an eye on me."

"I haven't been given that assignment by anybody," she said forcefully. "We are friends and I think that-"

"I don't need your protection, Hermione," hissed Harry.

Hermione looked at him, her brown eyes still terribly calm. "I know," she said softly. "But I can't help worrying a little. Does that bother you?"

Harry looked away from her. "Actually, yes."

"Why?"

"Because I can take care of myself," answered Harry darkly.

"I never said anything to the contrary," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

"Stop it, Hermione," snapped Harry.

"What?"

"This. Stop being so understanding and nice, stop asking me if I want your help, stop everything you are doing these days," he muttered.

"I'm just being your friend," she answered slowly.

Harry would have screamed, 'Then stop it,' but he didn't. Instead he looked at her and nodded.

Hermione shook her head. "It looks to me like we're back in our fifth year," she said softly.

"Why?" He already knew why, but he wanted to hear it from her and have time to answer with something nasty.

"Because you were so damn stubborn," she answered simply.

"And I have every reason in the world to be," he snapped. "I was Voldemort's target, and Dumbledore kept me in the dark about it."

"Yes, but now you're the one that knows the most about Voldemort in all the wizarding world, and you still aren't happy." She smiled softly. "I'm wondering what you really want."

"Just to be left alone," muttered Harry, carelessly letting his bag fall on the floor.

"And do everything by yourself? Can't you remember this June? After Dumbledore's funeral? Ron and I-"

Harry groaned. "Hermione, there's no need to remember that."

"No, there is," she replied stubbornly. "Ron and I told you that we would come with you, wherever you wanted to go. We didn't mind if it was dangerous or if we would never have got-"

"I got the point," snapped Harry. "What do you want? A biscuit for being a good friend?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but when she spoke her voice was still incredibly calm. "No, you know that my parents won't let me eat it, they think that it won't agree with my teeth."

Harry looked at her, annoyed. Her poor attempt to be funny was, in fact, _poor_. "If that's all you have for me, a dull sense of humour, then you can go to bed."

"It's not all I have for you," she answered slowly. "I gave you my friendship. I offered my help-"

"Yeah, for that stupid essay," remarked Harry.

"Not just for that stupid essay," Hermione's voice was gradually growing louder. "In the last six years Ron and I have always been by your side. Did you notice that? Or were you too busy feeling sorry for yourself?"

"I don't feel sorry for myself," said Harry hastily.

"Yes, you do. Like the whole world is against you."

"If you haven't noticed, Hermione, the world is against me," snapped Harry. "You still have your parents, still have your godfather, you don't know what it's like to see all the people that you love being killed in front of you."

Hermione automatically brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes huge, and Harry had to do his best to hide the sneer that was appearing on his face.

"How can you say something like that?"

Harry looked at Hermione. The sneer didn't show up, but his disappointment did. Her voice should have been broken with unrestrained tears, but it was almost angry. At least she was right in something. He didn't know what he wanted.

"How can you say something like that?" she repeated, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. Her eyes flashed dangerously, like they had never done with him, but only with Ron. "You are using their deaths as an excuse for your behaviour."

Harry looked at her, horrified. "No, I'm not," he said hastily. "I just wanted to show you that you haven't been through what I have."

He saw Hermione's fingernails disappearing into the armrests of the chair, her knuckles all white. "Just because I don't have a crazy killer after me, that doesn't mean that I don't know how you feel, Harry."

"Oh, sorry," said Harry mockingly. "Naturally, you know how I feel, you are a damn Know-It-All, aren't you?"

Hermione raised her eyes and locked them into Harry's. "No, I know how you feel because you are my friend, and I do really care for you." She stopped and looked away. "Even if you are an insufferable git sometimes."

Harry didn't answer. He picked up the bag from the floor and looked at her a last time before walking away. He heard Hermione getting to her feet behind him. "Harry," she called him.

Harry stopped and turned to face her.

"I didn't mean what I said," said Hermione firmly.

"What? That I'm using Sirius and my parents as an excuse for my behaviour?" asked Harry harshly.

"That you are an insufferable git," replied Hermione quietly.

"Oh, okay, miss Perfect," said Harry sarcastically. "You've done your daily amount of good, now that you have excused yourself you ca-"

"I'm not excusing myself," stated Hermione. "I'm just trying – I don't even know what I'm trying to do," she added, shaking her head as if she needed to clarify her ideas.

"Wow, that's an event," said Harry, smirking. He raised his eyes to her face and saw that her cheeks were wet with tears, and that she was crying silently. He had to close his eyes and mentally count to ten so that he could stay there without running towards her, pulling her into a hug and saying that he was sorry.

The temptation to apologise was great, but the pleasure of being in a fight with Hermione, who was so subdued, was even greater.

"Have you finished?" he asked after a while, not even recognizing his own voice when it escaped his mouth with such hatred.

As an answer Hermione let out a sob, picked up her schoolbag, and ran up the stairs, disappearing from Harry's sight. Harry would have seized her arm, stopped her and whispered in her ear that he didn't mean to be so mean, he didn't mean to make her cry. And that he needed her. Her and Ron. But he didn't even move when Hermione's hair brushed his face and he heard another sob escaping her lips.

Harry heard the door of the girls' dorm closing behind Hermione, and a new wave of rage invaded his mind. Why did she go away? He needed her to stay there with him, didn't she understand that?

He closed out all the voices that told him that it was all his fault and that he had committed a mistake, that Hermione was only trying to stay with him in a moment in which he stubbornly wanted to be alone.

He climbed up the stairs towards his dorm, trying to make as little noise as possible. He didn't want to talk to, or see, anyone else that night. The door to his dorm creaked a little, but luckily Ron's snore was much louder than that. If the boys could sleep with all that noise, a creak wouldn't wake them up.

He opened his trunk and threw his schoolbag inside, followed by his robes and his shoes. He sat on his bed, fastening his pyjama buttons, and looked out the window.

"I hate you, Hermione," murmured Harry softly. "No, I don't. But you don't know what it has meant for me," he added after a while.

He looked at the cloudless September sky. The lack of the moon let the stars shine more brightly than usual. He observed the constellations with a cold interest.

Then one of that stars fell down, leaving behind a trail of light.

'A shooting star,' thought Harry. He closed his eyes. 'What I wouldn't give for Hermione to finally feel what has happened to me because of Voldemort.'

Harry opened his eyes and sighed heavily, then pulled away the sheets on his bed, and laid down with his arms under his head.

His last thought before falling asleep was that he should say something to his friend the next day, maybe not exactly that he was sorry, but something similar.


	2. Something's Wrong

Disclaimer: I seriously would love to own Harry Potter, but I don't.

A/N: I know, I know… What was that? Almost three months without updating? Well, it's not my fault! As you can see I had to change beta-reader because the other one simply disappeared. Well, I have to say that I didn't expect such a good response for this story, and I'm very happy that you are liking it so far. So thanks to all my reviewers, and hope you'll like this chapter as well; I think it has a cliffy end, sorry about that, but I love cliffy-ends. See ya!

To Paula: Thanks a lot for beta-reading this chapter. You did a very good job.

**Something's Wrong**

Harry was dreaming about Quidditch when a pillow landed hard on his face.

"Come on, mate!" Ron's voice, muffled by the pillow, reached his ears. "You'll be late for breakfast."

Harry pushed the pillow off of his face and looked at Ron, who was already in front of the mirror, knotting his tie.

"What time is it?" asked Harry, closing his eyes again. He was quite certain that if Ron was ready by now, it must be extremely late.

"Almost seven thirty," replied Ron cheerfully.

Harry nodded sleepily, then opened his eyes wide in shock. "Seven thirty?" he asked, sitting up and looking at Ron. "And what are you doing up?"

Ron looked at him in the mirror. "What are you talking about, Harry? I always wake up this early."

"No, you don't," Harry insisted. "You're always the last one to have breakfast."

Ron laughed. "Harry, you're strange."

"Am I? I've just woken up," he said, pulling away the sheets and climbing out of bed.

"To be sure," Ron said primly, brushing his hair and straightening his tie. He studied his reflection with a critical air.

"What are you talking about?" asked Harry, picking yesterday's robes out of his trunk. He thought about it for a moment and pulled them on over his pyjamas.

"You've just woken up, talking nonsense and implying that I'm always late. But I'm always the first to get up," he calmly stated.

Harry looked at Ron and shook his head, reminding him of how Hermione had done the same thing last night. _Hermione_!

"You know, Ron," Harry began, trying to remain casual, "yesterday evening I had a fight with Hermione."

Ron stopped studying his reflection and turned to look at him. "Who?" he asked.

"Hermione," repeated Harry.

"Hermione who? Ah! Do you mean Granger?" asked Ron, picking up his schoolbag.

Harry stopped fastening his shoes and looked at Ron. "I mean Hermione, Ron. What's wrong with you today?"

"Nothing is wrong with me, Harry," said Ron, eyeing him with concern. "But what about you?"

Harry looked at him in disbelief, feeling anger building inside of him. He decided to keep quiet. He didn't want to fight with Ron as well. If Hermione brought up their argument again, Ron would make a valuable ally.

"Sorry, mate, I guess I'm just a little out of sorts," said Harry, standing up and grabbing his bag. "Let's go eat."

Ron nodded and made his way out the door and down the stairs, followed by a slightly bewildered Harry. The common room was almost empty, except for a couple of second years by the fire that didn't look up as Harry and Ron passed. They climbed through the portrait hole and headed down the corridor toward the stairs.

"You know what I heard from Parvati?" asked Ron, as they headed down the stairs.

Harry shook his head.

Ron looked around before coming closer to him and whispering into his ear, "That Granger girl has nightmares every night. She screams and never lets the other girls sleep. Parvati said that they want to tell Professor McGonagall about it, so maybe she'll move her to another room."

Harry stopped and looked at Ron. He had never heard him talk about Hermione this way – not even last year when she and Ron didn't speak for months, or in third year when Ron thought Crookshanks ate Scabbers.

"What?" asked Ron, turning to look at him.

"What did you say?" asked Harry.

"Only what Parvati told me," answered Ron, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Harry didn't understand what was going on.

"Ron, did you have a fight with Hermione?" he asked, trying to make sense of things. If Ron and Hermione had a fight, it might explain Ron's sudden desire to disassociate himself from her.

"A fight with Granger? Harry, are you sure you're all right? Have you caught the Abraxan flu? We barely speak to Granger, why would I fight with her?" asked Ron in disbelief.

Harry looked at Ron as if he'd never seen him before. This wasn't funny. Why on earth was Ron acting this way? He stopped on the stair beneath Ron and looked back up at him. Harry barely came up to Ron's chest. Something suddenly came to him. "Okay, I understand," Harry said seriously.

"Really?" asked Ron, puzzled.

"Sure, Hermione told you about the fight we had and now you two have decided to make fun of me in retaliation," said Harry proudly. "But it won't work. You can tell Hermione that I was going to apologize to her when I saw her at breakfast anyway," he added, smiling at the thought of her reaction when she discovered that her plan had backfired.

Ron arched an eyebrow and looked at him as if he was out of his mind. "Seriously, Harry what did you have for dinner yesterday?" he asked, patting his shoulder and passing by him.

Harry stood on the stair for a while, staring blankly ahead and wondering what was wrong with his best friend. He knew that there was something between Ron and Hermione, and if Hermione had asked Ron to help her get back at Harry for the way he had treated her, Ron would surely help. But Harry couldn't picture Hermione doing something like that.

"I _said_, what's wrong with you, Potter?"

Harry looked up and met Ginny's eyes. From the way she'd spoken to him, Harry gathered that she'd been trying to get his attention.

"What, Ginny?" he asked her, smiling. She was exactly the person he was looking for. He needed to talk to someone who wasn't out of their mind.

"I asked what was wrong with you," she repeated, rolling her eyes. "And since when you call me _Ginny_?"

Harry looked at her intently. He wasn't sure if she was joking. "What do you mean?" he asked after a while.

Ginny rolled her eyes again and passed by him. "I'm not going to waste time on you, Potter," she said, climbing down the stairs.

Harry stared after her as she disappeared around a corner.

"Okay, if this is a joke it's not funny," he said out loud.

"What are you talking about?" asked Seamus, who was passing by with Dean.

"Everybody is talking to me like I'm out of my mind," said Harry. "Or like they're out of _their_ minds."

Seamus shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe school is making everyone crazy. Let's go now, you don't want to miss breakfast, do you?"

"No, I guess not," muttered Harry, following them down the stairs.

Harry was quite surprised to see that almost everyone ignored him when he entered the Great Hall. Yesterday morning everyone stared at him – 'The Boy Who Lived To See Dumbledore Murdered By Snape'. Today, though, it seemed like nobody cared. Harry found it pleasant.

The Gryffindor table was packed with students who were eating their breakfast. Ron sat at the far end of the table, deep in conversation with Lavender Brown. Harry searched the table until he spotted Hermione. She was talking and laughing with Ginny and Neville, and seemed to be enjoying herself.

Harry gathered his courage and walked up to her. He stopped a couple of feet away and cleared his throat. Hermione didn't look up or give any sign that she had heard him.

"Hermione, can I talk to you?" he asked, trying not to sound annoyed. Why was she ignoring him?

Hermione, Ginny, and Neville stopped laughing and stared at Harry. Hermione seemed paler and thinner than she was the evening before. Surely their fight hadn't bothered her that much. "Why?" asked Hermione after a while, frowning.

"Because I have to tell you something," he said impatiently.

"Go on, then," answered Hermione.

"In private."

"What you can say to me, you can say to my best friends. I don't keep secrets from them," she said seriously.

Harry stared at Ginny and Neville. Best friends? What was she getting at? Was she trying to show him what it felt like to be without friends? He didn't have time for games.

He glared at her. "Fine. You think you're so smart, don't you? Why don't you come find me when you're ready to act like an adult." He stalked away, trying to ignore Ginny as she started laughing behind his back.

He made his way over to Ron and slumped onto the bench next to him. He grabbed some eggs and began furiously shovelling them into his mouth. Ron and Lavender stared at him wide eyed.

"What are you staring at?" he asked, spraying bits of egg over the table. "Hermione is acting like a child and thinks it's funny. But she won't be able to ignore me for very long."

Lavender glanced at Ron and then back at Harry. "Why are you trying to talk to her, anyway?" she asked curiously.

Harry sighed. "We had a fight last night and I said some really mean things. I just wanted to apologize."

Lavender took his hand in hers and smiled. "Harry, are you sure you're okay? We're never _nice_ to her, but it's not like we lose sleep over it."

Harry's eyes wandered from Lavender's face to her hands. "You're not nice to her?" Harry asked as he freed his hand. "She's never mentioned it to me. Has she said anything about it to you, Ron?"

Ron blinked. "Harry, Lavender means that _we_ are not nice to her," said Ron, gesturing at Harry, Lavender and himself.

Harry looked at them in shock. "What are you talking about? I never – okay, we fought yesterday, but we're friends. Hermione is-"

"Harry, Granger is no more than a nuisance. You've probably just spent too much time with her since you were both made Prefect," said Ron understandingly.

Harry looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Prefect? _You_ were made Prefect," he said.

Lavender frowned. "Harry, you're really acting odd. Maybe you should go back to bed."

Harry glared at her. "What are you talking about? And what are you doing here, anyway? You were still angry with Ron on the Hogwarts Express."

"Angry with Ron?" asked Lavender surprised. "Harry, Ron and I have never been happier."

"You mean that you two are-" His sentence trailed off as he noticed that their hands were clasped together. "You're still together?"

"Yes, Harry," answered Ron patronizingly. "Naturally."

"What?" whispered Harry in disbelief. "Ron, you should be fawning after Hermione! You have been for the past six years!"

Ron's jaw dropped. "What?"

"You know you were only with Lavender to make Hermione jealous!" Harry said, raising his voice.

Ron frantically hushed him. "What are you talking about? Are you out of your mind?" Then he turned to Lavender, who was pouting. "Lav, don't listen to him. He's crazy."

Lavender rolled her eyes and looked at Harry. "You know, if I was your girlfriend, I would keep an eye on you."

"Luckily, you're not," muttered Harry.

"I _am_ going to tell her you're acting oddly, though. Right now!" She stuck her tongue out at him and stood up.

"Who are you going to tell?" asked Harry puzzled. "I don't have a girlfriend anymore. Ginny and I split up in June." He watched her walk away, but she didn't head towards Ginny. Instead, she made her way to the Ravenclaw table. She bent down to and whispered something to Padma Patil. Harry's heart skipped a beat.

"Harry!" Ron snapped his fingers in front of him. "What were you saying about my sister?"

Harry tore his eyes away from Padma and Lavender, who were laughing hard, and looked at Ron. "I said that Ginny and I split up in June – why is Lavender talking to Padma?" he asked, turning to look at them again.

"Harry, Lav said that she would have told Padma that you aren't normal," said Ron. "But don't worry, she's joking."

"No!"

"No? Yes, but I swear she's joking, although-"

"No, she said that she would tell my girlfriend, but I don't have one," said Harry anxiously.

Ron smiled. "Uh-oh, don't let Padma hear that!"

Harry looked at Ron, trying to figure out what had happened to everyone, but before he could say anything else, Padma herself dropped into his lap and started kissing him passionately. Too shocked to react, Harry almost forgot how to breathe. What was going on? Padma's shrill and slightly annoying laughter snapped him out of his thoughts

"Are you alright, Harry?" asked Padma, tapping his nose with a manicured nail.

Harry blinked a couple of times, grabbed her by the waist, and pushed her up off of him. "What's wrong with you?" he said loudly. The entire Great Hall went quiet.

"Harry, dear, are you-"

"Stop that Padma, we aren't together," snapped Harry.

Padma looked taken aback. "What?"

Harry could feel the eyes of every single student on him.

"Mate, what's-"

"Don't ask me what's wrong, Ron, it's all of you that are wrong! All of _this_ is wrong!" yelled Harry, gesturing at Ron and Lavender, and at Hermione, Ginny, and Neville.

He was too busy yelling to notice that someone had placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?" Harry froze. That voice – it couldn't be. He turned slowly to face the speaker. What he saw took his breath away.

"P-professor Dumbledore," he stammered, unable to understand what was happening.

Dumbledore smiled. "Mr. Potter, I think you should go to the Hospital Wing." Dumbledore grabbed him by the arm and walked him towards the doors.

Harry saw the Great Hall going out of focus as he passed between the tables. He just was able to catch a glimpse of Hermione before the Headmaster pushed him out of the door.


	3. Like Living a Dream

Disclaimer: Not mine, nope…

A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay, but as you can see, I had to change beta-reader another time, hope this will be the last one. Anyway, Lyndsie has been so nice to actually edit my previous chapters, which had some little grammatical issues, and now they flow better. Well, I really hope that you'll enjoy this chapter, not much happens, but I swear that next chapters will be more interesting.

To Lyndsie Fenele: Thanks a lot sweetie, you are the great!

**Like Living a Dream**

"You are fine, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey calmly. "Your head isn't damaged in any way, and you don't have any Magical or Muggle disease, or been hit by any spell."

Harry looked at her and his jaw dropped. "Shouldn't I have something?" he asked harshly, a little bit harsher that he intended. "You should check out them all." Then his mind returned to Dumbledore; maybe there really was something wrong with his mind.

"Your friends said that you're confused. What is the last thing that you remember about yesterday?"

"I had a fight with Hermione," said Harry.

"Ah, yes, Professor Dumbledore is already talking to her," said Madam Pomfrey. "Personally, I don't think that _she_ would harm you, but if _I_ were her _I_ would. She's too nice and she takes everything without saying anything. I wouldn't be too surprised if she did it without even noticing."

"Do what?" asked Harry, without understanding.

"Curse you, of course," said Madam Pomfrey. "Without her wand. It's enough if all her rage was directed towards a single person, in this case, you and she cursed you."

"And she has the power to change reality?" asked Harry, impressed.

"What? Reality?" Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Mr Potter, Miss Granger is powerful, but not that powerful. Nobody can alter reality."

"She did," pronounced Harry seriously.

Before Madam Pomfrey could answer him, the door of the Hospital Wing opened and Dumbledore entered, followed by Hermione. Now that Harry looked at her closely, she seemed different, as if she had been through a lot in the last years. He felt sorry for her without knowing why.

"Poppy, how is Mr. Potter doing?" asked Dumbledore calmly, and for the first time Harry registered the fact that the Headmaster was calling him 'Mr. Potter' instead of Harry.

"There's nothing wrong with him, from a clinical point of view," answered Madam Pomfrey. "But he said that he had a fight with Miss Granger."

Dumbledore nodded. "Hermione said that she didn't fight with you, Mr. Potter. She actually said that she hasn't even seen you yesterday evening."

Harry felt a new wave of rage building inside him; he felt his cheeks going hot as he looked at his friend. "Hermione, I know that you might still be angry at me, but I didn't mean to say those horrible things and make you cry," said Harry, trying to keep his voice steady.

Hermione looked at him as if he had gone out of his mind. "Potter, I didn't even talk to you yesterday," she said quietly. "I didn't even see you."

Harry jumped down from the bed on which he sat and took a step towards her. "You're lying," he said forcefully. "You talked to me, you even offered your help on the Transfiguration essay."

"Mr. Potter, you must be very confused, because you are not taking Transfiguration this year," said Dumbledore, calmly.

Harry looked at Hermione and then his gaze slid over Dumbledore. "Yes, I am," he said. "And you're dead." He pointed his finger towards the Headmaster with an unnatural slowness.

Madam Pomfrey dropped a bottle of something, which crashed on the floor. "Such an impolite boy," she shrieked. Hermione looked at him, horrified, while Dumbledore's eyebrows rose so high, they disappeared under his hair.

"Mr. Potter, do I look like I'm dead?" asked Dumbledore gently.

Harry's finger dropped and he shook his head. "But I saw Snape kill you," said Harry. "In June, on the Astronomy Tower."

"Professor Snape, Mr. Potter," pointed out Dumbledore. "And no, it didn't happen. As you can see, I'm still here. Maybe it was just a dream." He smiled and Harry felt the urge to crush something. Not only did he not believe him, but he was making fun of him.

"You did something," he hissed to Hermione. "I already told you that I'm sorry, but no, you have to go on with this joke. Do you think it's funny?"

Hermione looked at him like a Healer would a patient of the Spell Damage Ward. She was very good at acting, Harry had to admit to himself.

Hermione looked away from him. "Headmaster, I swear that I don't know what he's talking about."

Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder. "I believe you, Hermione, don't worry." Then he turned his attention towards Harry. "Mr. Potter, do you have a more convincing story to tell us?" he asked.

Harry's jaw dropped. He looked from Hermione to Dumbledore and felt his frustration rising. It seemed all so terribly unreal. Dumbledore was there, _alive_, and Hermione looked at him as she usually looked at Draco Malfoy. There was something of terribly wrong.

"Mr. Potter?" called Madam Pomfrey. "Professor Dumbledore asked you a question."

Harry looked at him with a blank expression. "No, sir," he answered slowly.

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, then if Madam Pomfrey thinks that you are all right, Mr. Potter, you can go and attend your classes today. I saw to it that Mr. Weasley will be waiting for you out there." Dumbledore looked at Hermione. "You too, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, and without waiting for another word, she hastily exited the Hospital Wing. Harry followed her out of there, almost banging into the door when she let it go.

When he exited, he saw that Hermione passed by Ron with her head low, and Ron cast her a glance which for a moment reminded him of his real two best-friends.

"Hermione!" Harry called after her in vain, since she ignored him.

"Hey, mate," said Ron, catching his shoulder and stopping him. "How are you doing?"

Harry looked at him, and only at that very moment did he notice how different he looked from the Ron he thought he knew. Not that he was different physically, but his way of talk, his movements, his glances; he seemed more secure of himself. As if he hadn't to constantly demonstrate something to everybody.

"Harry," repeated Ron, waving a hand in front of his face. "I asked you how you're doing."

Harry blinked. "I'm fine, I think," he answered slowly. "All this, it's like living a dream."

"All this what?" asked Ron. "I've brought you your schoolbag," he added, handing him his stuff.

Harry took it. "Thank you," he said.

"What were you saying about a dream?"

"That it's like living in a dream, everything is wrong," muttered Harry.

"Yeah, well, anyway, you'd better go tell Padma that you were joking back at breakfast. Lav is consoling her right now, but I want to spend the afternoon with my girlfriend, so if you could go and comfort Padma by yourself, that would be great," said Ron, walking down the hall towards the dungeons.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Have you listened to a word I just said?" he asked, frustrated.

"Sure, your last word was 'dream'," answered Ron calmly.

"No, it was 'wrong'," retorted Harry.

"Whatever, Harry," said Ron lightly. "So, have you done your essay for Potions?"

"Potions?" asked Harry. "But we have Transfiguration this morning."

Ron glanced at him. "Harry, guess what? You haven't taken Transfiguration since your fifth year," he said.

Harry swallowed. "Okay," he murmured. "Then no, I didn't do the essay. I don't even know about what it was about."

"You're joking, right?" asked Ron, and Harry couldn't help but notice a note of pure concern in his voice.

"No," answered Harry dully. "I don't even know what we did with Slughorn last week."

"Slughorn who, Harry?" asked Ron, frowning. "Are you sure that Madam Pomfrey let you out of the Hospital Wing? Or did you break out of there?"

"What are you talking about, Ron?" Harry heard his voice rising as much as his rage. "Slughorn is our Potions teacher."

"Harry, our Potions teacher has been Snape since first year," answered Ron, as if he was talking to a five-year-old. "You know, tall, greasy hair, impossibly long nose and no love-life at all?"

"Snape?" said Harry softly. It wasn't possible. "Snape killed Dumbledore and they let him teach?"

Ron stopped in front of the Potions classroom and looked down at Harry. "Mate, Dumbledore isn't dead. Bloody hell, Harry, you're scaring me."

"You can't even imagine how scared _I_ feel," muttered Harry darkly.

Ron checked his watch and sighed. "We're five minutes late. Ready to pass through hell?" he asked, but Harry was too dazed to understand what he was talking about, so he simply stood there. Ron must have taken his silence as an agreement, because he pushed the door open.

"Well, well, well," came Snape's voice from the classroom. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, finally you honour us with your presence. Other five minutes and I would have doubled the amount of rats."

"R-rats, sir?" stammered Ron.

"Rats that you'll have to eviscerate and remove the brains," answered Snape calmly. "I would say… this entire Saturday afternoon, Mr. Weasley. Now you can both sit."

Ron sighed. "Yes, sir," he said, sitting down on a chair next to Ernie Macmillan.

But Harry didn't move. He couldn't help staring at Snape with his mouth open.

"Yes, Mr. Potter? Are you deaf, or do you have something to say?" asked Snape with a scowl.

Ron pulled at Harry's sleeve, but Harry didn't even turn to face him. His eyes couldn't leave the black pools of darkness that were Snape's irises, nor could he manage to close his mouth.

"Harry?" Ron called him shyly. "Better sit down."

"You should listen to Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter," said Snape firmly, "unless you want me to take fifty points from Gryffindor."

But the threat didn't even touch Harry; it seemed like almost nothing could have touched him at that moment.

"Potter, sit down now, or your detention will last a month," hissed Snape.

But Harry didn't care if his detention lasted an hour or a month or a year; the only important thing to him was that Snape was there. The man that had killed Dumbledore was there.

He closed his eyes and thought that there was something wrong in all of this; he _himself_ was wrong. How could he find it more amazing that Snape was still at Hogwarts than Dumbledore being still alive? Maybe because he was sure that Dumbledore couldn't be alive. Was it a dream? Why couldn't he wake up?

"Harry," whispered Ron, pulling at his sleeve again. "Harry, sit." Harry collapsed on the chair next to Ron. He looked around, but the faces of his fellow classmates seemed out of focus.

Harry heard Snape's steps coming towards him, and when he raised his eyes, he found Snape's nose only a couple of inches from his. His long and pale fingers leaned on his desk like sly earthworms. "Potter, do you want me to Floo your parents _again_?" asked Snape.

Harry couldn't help frowning. "My parents?" he asked. He felt his mouth going suddenly dry, as if he had run out of saliva. "My parents are dead."

From the class spread a murmur of excited voices.

"Don't you dare joke with me, Potter. You know that I would do that only in an extreme case, but I think that this is turning out to be extreme, isn't it?"

Harry looked at him blankly. "My parents are dead," he repeated.

Snape straightened his back and buttoned his black cloak at his waist. He looked down at Harry as if he were a nuisance of the worst kind. Harry thought for a moment that the world was coming back to normality. Then, Snape turned and walked towards the desk. He picked up a piece of parchment and wrote something quickly.

"I think you're in trouble now, Harry," Ron whispered in his ear. "Last time Snape called your parents, they were so angry that they didn't let you use your Firebolt for the rest of the school year."

Harry looked at him as if he had gone out of his mind. "My parents are dead, Ron," he repeated to him.

"Enough, Potter," said Snape from the desk. "Take this to the Headmaster. I want to talk to your parents as well, when they get here."

Harry didn't move. He didn't understand that he was meant to stand up, walk towards the desk and pick up the roll of parchment that Snape was handing him.

"Potter!" thundered Snape.

"Harry, for God's sake!" muttered Ron, pushing him out of the chair.

Harry walked towards the desk, feeling everybody's gazes on him as he stretched out a hand and picked up the parchment.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "You may go now, Potter. And I want you to know everything about Polyjuice Potion next time you pass through that door."

Harry turned and walked between the rows of desks, towards the door. He saw that Ron was looking at him with a sympathetic look, and before he exited the class he also spotted Hermione, who sat alone at the far end of the dungeon. He stopped and started to walk towards her.

"Go Potter," said Snape. "I'll see you later. With your parents," he added with a smirk.

Harry glanced at Hermione again, but she didn't even raise her eyes. He turned and walked out of the door, feeling strong in his newfound belief that what was happening to him was just a dream.


	4. Harry's Parents

Disclaimer: Not mine. Nope… If it was the hero was not a boy, but a girl… Girls' power!

A/N: So, I couldn't wait to post this chapter (and all the future chapters of this fiction), because it looks like this story is quite loved; and when my stories are loved I feel loved… Anyway, this chapter was difficult like hell to write, so forgive me if it sounds stupid or anything … I just hope that you'll enjoy it a bit…

To Lyndsie Fenele: Thanks a lot sweetie, your corrections are always extremely helpful.

**Harry's Parents**

Harry walked towards the gargoyle statue as if he was a sleepwalker, not even aware that Professor McGonagall was calling him.

"Potter," she said for the third time, and finally Harry stopped. "I asked you what you're doing out here. You should have a lesson with Professor Snape, shouldn't you?" she asked firmly.

Harry looked at her. She didn't seem different from the McGonagall he knew - she didn't even treat him differently than usual.

"Potter!"

"What?" asked Harry, looking at her dumbly.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Is it true that you went to the Hospital Wing this morning?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

"And what do you have?" asked Professor McGonagall. "Has someone cast a Confundus Charm on you? You seem befuddled. Why didn't Madam Pomfrey cast the anti-spell?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Madam Pomfrey said that I didn't have anything. But I'm feeling strange."

For a moment Professor McGonagall's expression softened, but when she spoke her voice was anything but sweet. "Why are you wandering the halls when you should be at your Potions lesson?"

Harry looked at his hand, as if the parchment had suddenly started to weigh heavily between his fingers. He gave it to Professor McGonagall. "I have to see the Headmaster."

Professor McGonagall read the parchment, then, shaking her head, she gave it back to Harry. "You spoke back to Professor Snape again, haven't you, Potter?" she said, gesturing to follow her.

"A-again?" asked Harry, behind her.

"Like every time that you have a lesson with him," answered Professor McGonagall, sighing. "Is it so hard for you to keep your mouth shut? I know that your father encourages you to rebel against Professor Snape, but I'm sure that your mother isn't of the same opinion at all."

"M-my mother?" asked Harry. He wanted to scream that his mother was dead, but he'd already spent so much energy screaming at Ron and the others that morning that he didn't feel like do it again.

"Don't tell me that Lily Potter agrees with your father about the way you talk to Professor Snape," exclaimed Professor McGonagall, stopping in front of the gargoyle statue. "Your father must have taken her the wrong way," she added, smiling.

"A-are you joking, Professor?" asked Harry unsurely.

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "Of course I am, Potter." She turned and whispered the password to the statue. "You may go now - and it's better if you move."

Harry looked at her until she disappeared from his sight, then he started to climb up the stairs. He knocked on the door of the office and waited. From the other side of the door he could hear the soft noises of the silver objects spread throughout Dumbledore's office.

"Come in," said Dumbledore.

Harry pushed the door open and found himself in the Headmaster office, which he knew so well. Nothing, not even a quill, seemed have moved since the last time that he'd entered there. The only difference was Dumbledore's portrait, which wasn't hanging on the wall anymore.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" asked Dumbledore from behind his desk.

Harry stepped towards him and handed him the message from Snape. Dumbledore placed the parchment on the desk and read it. When he finished he looked up at Harry with a calm expression on his face. He slowly stood up and walked towards the portrait of an old witch on an armchair. He talked to her and in less than a minute she has gone.

Dumbledore came back to his desk and sat down. "You can sit, Mr. Potter," he said to Harry. "I wonder what you did this time to make me call your parents, another time."

"I-I think I talked back to Snape," said Harry.

"Professor Snape, Mr. Potter," corrected Dumbledore; some things never changed, not even in a strange dream. "And what do you mean by you think?" Dumbledore took a deep breath. "Listen, Mr. Potter, I know that sometimes Professor Snape is a little bit stricter than normal towards you, but you can't always push his patience over the edge."

Harry didn't know what to do or say, so he just nodded. Inside he really hoped to wake up soon or later.

The witch reappeared on the portrait. "I told them, Albus. They'll be here in a few minutes."

Dumbledore nodded and thanked her. "Now, Harry. I'm sure that your parents won't be too pleased to be here, but I think that they'll understand when we'll tell them that it was Professor Snape who called them."

"Why are you calling my parents? It's never happened before that somebody's parents have been called just because their they got a detention," he said hastily. He'd wanted to say, 'What are you calling my parents for? They're dead', but that wasn't what had escaped his lips.

"I well know that, Mr. Potter, but as you remember, in your fifth year Professor Snape also demanded to talk with them," said Dumbledore. "The fact is that your father wasn't very nice with him while they were at school, and now Professor Snape finds himself in a privileged position towards them; being your professor and having the authority of pointing out all your mistakes, he gets a kind of revenge on your father."

Harry looked at him with his eyes huge - what was he saying? He had never told him that before. Finally, he understood something.

Suddenly, the flames in the fireplace turned green and a woman exited the chimney, followed only a few seconds later by a man.

The woman had long red hair and bright green eyes, while the man had untidy black hair and round glasses. Harry recognized them immediately as the couple in his pictures - his parents.

Lily looked at him and sighed, then she stretched out a hand to Dumbledore. "Good morning, Professor Dumbledore; I hope that you haven't called us here because of Harry," said Lily. Harry closed his eyes so that he could impress in his mind the timbre of her voice.

"Good morning Lily, James," answered Dumbledore.

"I bet it's because of Snape we're here," said Harry's father.

Harry thought that they both had wonderful voices.

"Harry, are you alright?" asked James. When Harry opened his eyes, he saw that his father was looking at him with concern.

Harry felt tears sliding down his cheeks, and before he could understand what he was doing, he threw himself towards his mother. "Mum," he muttered in her chest, soaking her robes with his salty tears.

He felt Lily's hand caressing his head. "Merlin's beard, Harry, we haven't said anything yet," said James, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What happened?"

Harry let his mother go and hugged James with the same force, not at all worried about what they thought of it. All that mattered to him was that they were there. He didn't give a damn if it was a dream, now he didn't want to wake up anymore.

James patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "Harry, are you alright? What did Snape do to you?"

Harry didn't answer; as long as he had his arms around his father nothing mattered to him. He closed his eyes and for a moment the world seemed to disappear around him.

"Or are you just trying to keep us from taking away your broomstick?" asked James sarcastically.

"James," said Lily firmly. "Naturally, Harry would never cry over something so stupid. Don't you know your son?"

Harry felt his heart melt with these words. "I don't mind about the broom, Dad. I'm just happy to see you."

"We're happy to see you too, Harry," said Lily, smiling.

"But, Harry, only three weeks ago you were counting down the days to come back to school to see your girlfriend," pointed out James, pushing Harry a bit away and looking him in his eyes. "Did you and Padma break up?"

Harry wanted to point out that he didn't give a damn about Padma Patil or any other girl in the school as long as they were there, but he limited himself to shaking his head.

"Dad, Mum, take me home," said Harry, causing everybody, even Dumbledore, look at him with concern. "Take me home, please. I wanna go home."

James turned so suddenly towards Dumbledore that Harry had to step back to keep from falling. "Where is Snape? I want to talk to him right now. Bloody hell, Dumbledore, my son is scared to death."

Harry's lips curled into a smile while he heard his father. Things were going from good to better. He wasn't scared to death, at least not for the reasons his father thought, but he didn't care what his father thought as long as they took him home.

Lily placed her hands on Harry's upper arms and smiled. "Harry, are you sure that everything is alright? You can talk to us if you need, you know that, don't you?"

But all Harry did was throw his arms another time around Lily's neck and hug her. At that moment someone knocked on the door of the Headmaster's office.

"Come in," said Dumbledore.

The door opened and Snape entered with his usual smirk. "Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter, I'm glad that you have arrived; naturally, your son didn't leave me any other choice than call you here."

James stepped towards him and for a moment Harry was sure that he would hit him, but instead, James seized Snape by the robes. "What did you do to my son?" he asked angrily.

"What are you talking about, Potter?" hissed Snape, seizing James' wrists. "I gave him a detention, or is that not permitted anymore? Do you think that because you're an Auror your son will get a special treatment?"

James' eyes narrowed as he looked intently at Snape. "No, I don't. But I've never seen my son so distressed. What did you do to him? I doubt that a normal detention would ever have this effect on him. He's already had a lot of detentions and he never reacted this way before."

"What do you mean, Potter?" asked Snape.

James let finally go of Snape and nodded towards Harry, who was still hugging his mother.

"Looks like he's missing attention at home," said Snape, smirking. "It doesn't surprise me that he's turning into a criminal."

James raised his fist ready to hit Snape's nose. "Take that back," he yelled.

Lily pushed Harry away and pulled James' sleeve with force. "James, what are you doing?" she asked firmly. "Can't you simply talk like a civilized person?"

James glared at Snape. "You are lucky that my wife's here," he hissed. "Snivellus," he added in a whisper.

Snape's eyes narrowed so much that they were now only two slits. "Really, what would you do?" he hissed back.

"Severus. James." Dumbledore called their names without the trace of a threat, but both them stopped as if they had been Petrified. "If you have finished speaking, we should come back to talking about Harry. Don't you think?" he asked gently.

"Yes, I'm sorry, Headmaster," said Snape.

Dumbledore nodded, then turned his attention towards Lily and James. "Professor Snape has done nothing to your son. And although he gave Harry a detention only because Harry spoke back to him, it's not our task to discuss his teaching methods."

"But you're the Headmaster," protested James.

"And I firmly trust Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "Now, Lily, James, I wanted to inform you that your son has also paid a visit to the Hospital Wing this very morning."

Lily looked at Harry with concern. "Really, Harry? Why? Aren't you feeling well?"

Harry would have hugged her only because she was worrying about him. He pondered the question attentively. If he said 'no' maybe they would bring him home with them, or maybe they would take him to St. Mungo's. He decided to try anyway; he shook his head and tried to look as ill as he could.

"He was confused," said Dumbledore. "He was yelling at his friends at breakfast and blamed Miss Granger for that."

Lily tore away her eyes from Harry and looked at Dumbledore. "Miss Granger?" she asked, paling a little. "And did she do something to him?"

"I don't think so," said Dumbledore. "Maybe it was just a joke from our dear Mr. Potter."

"I hope it's not like that, Harry," said James seriously. "Now, Dumbledore is there something else we should know? Apart from Snape's speech about what a terrible son we have."

Snape glared at James with hatred.

"No, I think not," said Dumbledore, smiling softly. "You may go."

"And you'll bring me with you, won't you?" asked Harry hopefully.

Lily caressed his hair and smiled. "No, Harry. You have to stay at Hogwarts. But we'll see each other at Christmas, as usual."

Harry felt his world shattering as his mother kissed him on the forehead. He closed his eyes and tried to imprint in his mind the sensation of her lips on his forehead, her soft hands on his shoulder and her beautiful smile. James patted him on the shoulder. "Be a good boy, Harry," said James with a note of warning in his voice. "And stop teasing Hermione Granger; we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her."

Then they bid Dumbledore goodbye and disappeared again in the fireplace, saying "The Ministry of Magic" out loud before the green flames swallowed them.

Harry stood there, without being able to tear his eyes away from the spot where his parents had just disappeared.

"You may go, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore, snapping him out of his thoughts. Harry looked at him with a dumb smile on his face, and, nodding, he walked towards the door and exited the office.


	5. Scarred

Dislaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Ooooh! My first chapter uploaded from China! Isn't that great? Yes, it is. Anyway, this chapter is one of my favourite. Oh, screw that, it's my favourite. Or better, it was my favourite, until I re-read it just now.. I think some parts are a bit awkward.. Anyway, let me say that finally Harry realize a bit of what's going on… It's a freeing chapter. Tell me if you think it's stupid or something—I won't get mad.. Too much.. Oh, damn, enjoy it!

To Lyndsie Fenele: Thanks a lot for beta-reading this. It really helped.

**Scarred**

Harry passed by a group of students without even seeing them; his smile was still placed on his lips and his eyes were glazed. His only thought was his parents. He's never felt that way before, as if some terrible cold had been melted inside his heart. He had never felt happier.

"Password, dear?" asked the Fat Lady.

"Butterbeer," he said softly.

"It's not that," said the Fat Lady.

Harry laughed and stood there without saying anything else. He came to the conclusion that he didn't know, or better he didn't remember, the password, but he really didn't care. He felt like he could have waited all day for someone to arrive, he didn't care. But he didn't have to wait all day to enter the Gryffindor common room, since the Portrait swung open and a bushy-haired girl exited with a pile of books in her hands.

Hermione glanced at Harry, then hurried towards the Library. Harry cast a look at her as well, but he didn't try to stop her or to try to talk to her. If she had really done something to him, then he just wanted to thank her. Later.

He walked through the Gryffindors that were studying, wondering what the time was. He climbed up the stairs to his dorm and found it almost empty, except for Ron.

"Hey, mate," he said, sitting up at once when he entered. "Why weren't you at lunch? Oh, sure your parents! How did it go? Did they take away your broomstick?" he asked worryingly.

Harry's smile widened. "No," he said softly.

Ron took a step towards him and grinned. "Great! We really needed our best Seeker in the next match against Slytherin," he cried with joy. "So? What did they say?"

Harry walked past him and sat down on his bed, looking in front of him; the smile still didn't leave his face. "Uh?" he asked, looking up at Ron.

Ron walked towards him and sat down on his own bed, finding himself right in front of him. "What did your parents say?" he asked another time.

Harry shrugged his shoulder dreamily. "They are wonderful, better than I've ever imagined."

Ron looked at him with concern. "Harry, what are you talking about?"

Harry smiled again. He would have hugged Ron, too. He saw his best friend leaning closer, and looking intently at his forehead. "Harry, you have something-" he said, touching his own forehead.

"Really?" asked Harry without minding. He touched his forehead as well, just where his mother had kissed him and felt the sticky softness of her lipstick.

"Better if you look into the mirror," answered Ron, nodding towards the mirror on the other wall of the room.

Harry stood up and walked towards the mirror; he looked at his own reflection and for the first time he saw that he was different too. He wasn't skinny, as he used to be. He wasn't fat, but he had enough flesh around his bones to say that he wasn't ill-treated. He liked what he saw.

"On the forehead," he heard Ron's voice coming from the bed.

Harry brushed away his fringe with a hand and looked at it. There was the sign of his mother's lips where she had kissed him. Harry brushed it softly.

"Who did it? Padma? Did you two made up?" asked Ron, amusement in his voice.

Harry shook his head, but didn't answer.

"Harry, you don't have another girl, do you?" asked Ron, and Harry knew that he was concerned. What did it matter to him if he stopped going out with Padma Patil? That would be the first thing that he would have done that afternoon.

Harry studied his forehead attentively, looking for some other traces of his mother or father. And it was then that he saw it - or better, he didn't see it.

He moved his head towards the left and looked intently at his skin. After all the happiness, now fear was building inside of him again. He turned towards Ron frantically.

"Ron, look!" he said, walking towards him and displaying the right part of forehead.

Ron backed up a little to avoid crashing his nose against Harry's head. "It's just a kiss, Harry," pointed out Ron.

"No! Not there, here," he said pointing at a spot on his right.

"I can't see anything, mate," he said. "You don't have anything."

"Right!" cried Harry. He turned and crossed the dorm another time to go back to the mirror. "My scar. There isn't one anymore."

"Did you have a scar, Harry?" asked Ron calmly. "I didn't know that."

Harry turned to face him. The encounter with his parents seemed so terribly far away now; once again he felt his world shattering under his feet. He looked anxiously at his reflection in the mirror. "Of course I had – have a scar, Ron. The bolt-shaped scar."

"Hey, don't get mad at me," protested Ron. "You didn't tell me that you had one. How did you get it?"

Harry felt frustration building inside of him again. "Voldemort, Ron – oh, honestly – when I was just one year old," he said, looking again into the mirror. "I – it's famous," he added, flushing slightly.

He heard Ron burst out laughing. "Yeah, well, you know Harry, the only one that has a scar left from You-Know-Who in this school is Hermione Granger."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "What?" he asked weakly.

"Yes, right near her heart," said Ron. "Not that I saw it," he added hastily, while his cheeks turned pink. "But Lavender told me that she saw it while they were taking a shower. It has the shape of a crooked cross. And it's pretty famous too."

Harry felt as if the world was spinning around him. He had to lean against the wall to avoid falling , and he felt his breath coming faster.

"H-Hermione," he muttered.

Ron nodded. "Harry, are you alright?" he asked, sitting up from the bed and walking towards him. Ron stretched out an arm to touch him, but Harry hit him.

"Harry, what-?"

Harry pushed him away, making him fall to the floor. He looked at him with anger and fear, and before Ron could mutter any other word he exited the dorm running.

He climbed down the stairs so quickly that he tripped over the last two and flew in the middle of the common room. All the students started to laugh and point at him, but he didn't mind. He didn't even hear them. He felt two strong arms helping him up, and when he saw Ron's face, he pushed him away another time.

He made his way through the other students, pushing them apart and sending some of them to the floor. He reached the Fat Lady and passed through the hole. He looked around in the deserted corridor, like a beast would look around in the forest.

Without even understanding what he was doing he started to run towards the Library. He had to see her. Had to see _it_.

While he ran frantically, his father's words came into his mind. _Stop teasing Hermione Granger, we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her. _They were starting to make sense to him.

He shoved someone out of his path, without even turning to see who it was. He didn't mind if he had sent someone crashing against a wall, not in that moment. All he wanted was to see Hermione.

He reached the Library and looked around with vision blurred with anger. Why was he so angry? He stood there for a while, confused. Harry shook his head and closed his eyes. He had to find her, didn't matter what.

He opened his eyes again and looked around for his friend. He walked between the empty tables and the tall bookshelves, but the Library seemed empty.

But he knew that she was there. She had to be there.

Finally he turned behind a bookshelf near the Restricted Section and there she was. She sat all alone in a corner, with a big tome open in front of her.

Harry felt the small amount of lucidity that he had used for finding her leaving his brain while he threw himself towards the unaware girl.

Hermione didn't even have the time to let out a cry when Harry snatched the book out of her hands and threw it away. He seized her hair and pulled her to her feet.

He stopped for a moment when he saw her chocolaty eyes filled with pure fear, and in that moment Hermione took advantage of him and slapped him across the face.

This snapped Harry away from his thoughts and he sent her towards the nearest bookshelf. The books trembled on the shelves when her body banged against it. She still looked at him with her eyes full of horror, but this time Harry didn't stop.

Hermione tried to run away, but Harry closed the distance between the two of them with only a step, and placed both hands on each side of her. Hermione cried out in terror, but her scream was suffocated by Harry's left hand.

He started to loosen her tie with force, so much force that he felt her whimper under his hands. Then he unbuttoned the top buttons of her shirt.

Hermione struggled under Harry, and brought both her hands up, one on Harry's wrists and the other on his neck. Harry stopped another time, and Hermione dug her nails into his skin. Harry used the hand with which he was working on her robes to take her hands away. When he finally managed to shake her off of him, she had left him little half-moons which were filling of blood.

He took out his wand and crashed Hermione's hands between their bodies. He looked at her neck cavity, almost completely exposed now that he had taken her tie away, and without being able to wait he pulled on her shirt with such force that the material ripped under his hands. He moved away the bra strip with anger, as if it was a bother, and stared down.

There it was: a small crooked cross, just like Ron had said, near her heart. He looked at it without being able to say a word, nor to put his thoughts together.

He closed his eyes and passed his thumb over the scar, feeling the smoothness of the cicatrized flesh under it. He tightened his grip on her shoulder so strongly that he was sure he was hurting her. But, strangely enough, he didn't mind.

He was trying to reconcile what he has just understood. Hermione was the one that had survived the _Avada Kedavra_, not him.

Harry snapped away from his thoughts when he felt her slim body shaking under his hands and something hot wetting the hand pressed on her mouth. He let her shoulder go and raised his eyes to hers. He had the unpleasant sensation that she had never been more scared, not even when she found herself against Voldemort. Because he was sure that she had met him.

He took his hand away from her mouth and freed her hands. He would have expected her to scream, but she didn't make a sound.

He leaned against the bookshelf next to her, and, sliding slowly down, he sat on the floor, short of breath.

Not more than five minutes had passed before they heard some quick steps approaching them. Madam Pince turned a corner and stared in horror at both of them. "What happened here?" she asked, he eyes wandering from Hermione's puffy eyes to her ripped clothes.

Harry didn't answer. At that moment, he couldn't care what she thought. He didn't mind if she gave him another detention or if she threw him out of school.

"I-I fell," said Hermione weakly. Harry raised his eyes and looked at Hermione, who was hastily trying to wipe away her tears.

"You fell?" asked Madam Pince in disbelief. "I heard someone screaming and more than one bang against the shelves." She looked at the book that Harry had made fly across the room and turned her attention towards Harry, who had now lowered his eyes and stared at the floor.

"Potter helped me," continued Hermione, before Madam Pince could ask anything else.

The librarian looked at her again. She narrowed her eyes, and after a small nod she disappeared behind the shelves. "And pick up that book," they heard her say a bit after she had gone.

Hermione passed quickly by Harry and picked up the book, placing it carefully on the table. Then she turned and looked at Harry, who was staring at her intently, even if his eyes seemed ages away.

He was still gazing at her scar, but Hermione seemed to think that he was looking her uncovered shoulder and hurried to cover herself with the remains of her clothing. When she moved, Harry was snapped out of his thoughts.

He placed a hand on the floor and another one on the lower shelf of the bookshelf and slowly stood up. What had he done? He had just done violence to Hermione. Why? He didn't know. And why didn't she report him to Madam Pince?

"Why did you cover for me?" he asked, turning towards her. But when he saw her with her wand raised towards him and that more tears were streaming down her face, he knew that she wasn't going to answer.

"What did you do that for?" she asked in a bare whisper, her voice broken with sobs.

Harry shook his head disheartened. "I don't know. I just wanted to see your scar."

"Why didn't you ask me?" she continued, while some of her tears hit the floor.

Harry lowered his head. "I don't know," he admitted both to her and to himself. "Would you have let me?" he asked all of a sudden.

He saw her arm shaking a little and she bit her bottom lip. "No," she said. She picked up all her books and walked past him. "But there was no need to humiliate me," she said.

Without understanding what he was doing, Harry ran after her. "Hermione, wait!" She didn't stop. He seized her arm and made her turn as gently as he could.

"What do you want?" she asked, sobbing. "Hit me? Will you feel better if you'll tell your friends that you've punched the 'Chosen One'?"

Harry let her go immediately. "The Chosen One?" He and only he was the Chosen One.

"I know what you call me when you speak with your friends. There's no need to pretend to be surprised," she said. "Even Dumbledore calls me that, but at least he doesn't do it to make fun of me."

Harry was too bewildered to even understand what she was talking about, so he didn't even try to stop her when she ran away and the warning of Madam Pince, "Don't run in the Library!" reached his ears like a hushed whisper while his vision unfocused another time and the only sound that reached his ears was his heartbeat.


	6. The Girl Who Lived

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor anything related to it. Except for this plot.

A/N: Okay not much happens in this chapter, and hopefully it's not too boring. Anyway, I had to write it, it's a pretty important part of the story, and I love the end… I hope that everybody is like 'WTF! What's going on?' – Oh, and I was thinking something, I'm flattered that so many people like this story (thank you to all of you!), but I'm deluded/shocked/surprised/sad that nobody is reading/reviewing my other story "But Thy Eternal Summer Shall Not Fade", so I'm SHAMELESSLY ADVERTISING it here. Wouldn't you give it a try? I swear it's not that bad…

To Lyndsie Fenele: Thanks a lot for beta-reading this.

**The Girl Who Lived**

"Potter?" Madam Pince shook Harry's shoulder as she called him. Harry looked up at her without even understanding what she was saying, though she was only calling his name. He lowered his eyes again, staring in front of him.

"Potter, are you all right?" she asked, shaking him more forcefully. He'd never been asked how he felt so many times in just one day.

Harry looked around, aware at that very moment that he was sitting on the floor of the Library, with his back against the leg of a table and his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. He looked up at the librarian again, who smiled.

"Come on," she said, offering him a hand. "I'll help you up."

Harry took her hand and she helped him stand up. When he was on his feet, he felt his head spinning, and he had to lean against the table to keep from falling down.

"You are pale, Potter. Have you had lunch today?" she asked.

Harry thought for a moment about what she was saying. Lunch? He almost didn't even have breakfast. He shook his head.

"Well, better if you eat something, then," she said. She waved her wand and some small sandwiches appeared on a plate on the table. Harry looked at them with scarce interest; he didn't really feel like eating after all the information that had hit him since the morning.

"Go on, Potter," said Madam Pince. "But if you dirty even one book, I'll make sure that you won't be able to come back in this Library for the rest of your life," she added, threateningly.

Harry nodded, too weak to answer. He sat down and started to bite the sandwiches, which made their way down his throat with great difficulty.

He breathed deeply. What was happening? Was it possible that history had changed in just one night? No, Harry didn't think so. Something that went beyond his comprehension must have occurred.

He leaned against the back of the chair and thought about what Hermione had just told him: the _Chosen One_. She was the Chosen One. How was that possible? _It was almost like everything that had happened to me was happening to her._

Harry stopped dead. The sandwich fell back on the plate as he contemplated what he had just thought.

_It was almost like everything that had happened to me was happening to her. _

He felt something heavy in his throat. Something that didn't even let him breath properly as long as he thought of her. It was his fault, all his fault. He closed his eyes, and for a moment he saw himself the evening before, while he watched out of the window and wished on that shooting star for Hermione to suffer as much as he did.

'What I wouldn't give so that Hermione would finally prove on her skin what has happened to me because of Voldemort. So that everything that had happened to me would happen to her,' he had thought. Harry let out a cry of frustration.

Then something occurred to him. Dumbledore was alive. And if they were indeed in their last year at Hogwarts, did that mean that Hermione was a better Chosen One than him? He felt the frustration and the sorrow invading his heart and his mind. He had to know. What had Hermione told him the first time he saw her on the Hogwarts Express? He was quoted in some famous books, but which were these books? Why had he never paid attention to her?

"Potter, aren't you hungry?"

Harry raised his eyes and saw that Madam Pince was looking down at the plate. He lowered his eyes over the plate as well and saw that he'd only eaten half of a sandwich.

"No," he answered hoarsely.

Madam Pince snorted and made the plate disappear, then turned on her heels and walked towards her desk. Harry stood up and walked in her direction.

He cleared his throat. "Madam Pince?" he asked shyly.

She raised her head a bit, without taking her eyes away from her work. "Yes, Potter?"

"I'd like to know where I can find some information about Hermione Granger," he said slowly.

Madam Pince raised her eyes and looked at him with suspicion. "What kind of information?"

"Everything that I can find," answered Harry. "I'm sure that she's mentioned in some books."

"Of course she is," said Madam Pince, sitting up. She walked towards a bookshelf and looked for some books, helping herself with her fingers while she read the titles. "She's quoted in lots of books, actually." She picked up one. "_Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century,"_ she read out loud. "Here you can find some information, and then there's _Modern Magical History_, which will be a bit difficult for you, but very well done. And there was another one-" She looked at the titles of the other books and finally she stopped when her eyes fell on _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_. She gave all the books to Harry and looked at him intently. "Don't dirty them," she said seriously.

"No Ma'am," answered Harry, hurrying towards the nearest table.

He sat down and placed the tomes on the table. They were huge, and the worst thing was that they were written in the most minute writing he had ever seen. He decided to start with _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, principally because he wanted to know what Hermione had done and secondly because it was the one on the top of the pile.

He opened the book and turned the pages quickly, going past the first thousand of years that talked about the Dark Arts. He reached Grindelwald and knew that he was near. He went on and found a voluminous chapter about Voldemort. But until 1981, he already knew how the story went.

When he finally reached the paragraph called 'The Fall of Lord Voldemort', he started to read seriously.

_The fall of Lord Voldemort is to be found with a little Muggle-born girl named Hermione Granger. How a little child of only two years of age managed to destroy the greatest dark lord of all time, we don't know, but experts think that the cause of his fall is to be found in the sacrifice of the mother of little Hermione. The extraordinary fact is that the girl not only defeated the Dark Lord, but also survived the Killing Curse that was sent against her. _

The paragraph stopped there, and the next one was titled 'How the Ministry Managed to Punish the Dark Lord's Followers'. Harry decided to skip it.

He closed the book and sighed. All he had understood from the book was that Hermione had done exactly what he had done. And so had Hermione's mother, which meant that Hermione was an orphan. He wondered if she had been entrusted to an abusive family of Muggles like he had been. _On her skin…What I did ._ He came to the conclusion that she must have been.

He placed the book on a chair and opened the next one, _Modern Magical History_. He found Hermione's name pretty quickly, since the book talked only about modern events.

Luckily, the paragraph about her was longer than the other one, but half of it seemed copied from _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_.

_And in 1981 the most important event is the fall of Lord Voldemort, which is to be found with a little Muggle-born girl called Hermione Granger. How the two-year-old child managed to survive the 'Avada Kedavra' spell we don't know, we can only make some suppositions about that. Anyway, many people think that the baby girl was protected by the love of her parents, who gave up their lives to protect her. If this is the right cause of what happened we don't know, because the parents of Hermione Granger were Muggles and we don't know if they could have cast such a powerful spell without even knowing what they were doing. Nonetheless, Albus Dumbledore thinks that it was love that protected the girl. The girl has grown up in a family of Muggles, her mother's relatives and her only blood relatives. _

That answered Harry's questions a little, but it didn't help much. There was nothing about what happened after that faithful night. He silently hoped for something more in the last book, but when he opened it there was absolutely nothing different except for the fact that they had spelled 'Hermione' wrong.

Harry closed the book so violently that it cracked. Madam Pince looked up at him and he hurried to place the tomes back. He walked again towards the librarian.

"Are you sure that these are the only books that reference Hermione?" he asked.

Madam Pince raised her eyes on him. "Mr. Potter, what did you expect? Miss. Granger is only eighteen years old. When she's older, more books will talk about her."

Harry nodded. "Madam Pince, can you please tell me something about her?"

"Something like what, Mr. Potter?" she asked puzzled.

"Something like what happened during her years here at Hogwarts. The Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, Sirius Black and so on," he said.

Madam Pince looked at him as if he was out of his mind. "Mr. Potter, I don't have time to waste with your stupid questions. Everybody knows what happened in the last few years, and what does Sirius Black have to do with it?"

"I – he – didn't he escape from Azkaban?" asked Harry. He felt his heart pounding frantically in his chest.

"Sirius Black never went to Azkaban. He's an Auror, and since he's your parents' best friend, I think you should know these things, Potter," said Madam Pince with the vague suspicion that Harry was making fun of her.

"Do you mean that he isn't dead?" he asked softly.

"Of course not!" For a moment Madam Pince seemed to forget about the rule of 'don't scream in the library' while she answered him. "Now Potter, I have some work to do. You'd better go."

"But I-"

"No buts, Potter, I have work to do, and if you would have lived these last years more attentively than you have done, you would know all these things already," she said in a tone that brooked no opposition.

Harry exited the Library with a sensation of emptiness and indecision. He had all his relatives back, his mother, his father, Sirius; he wondered if Cedric was still alive. How could it be? How could that have changed? He felt so bad for Hermione.

He needed to talk with someone; he needed to know everything he could about Hermione. And then? What would he do? He needed to talk to her, but he doubted that after what he'd done to her she would ever consent to speak to him, or even to get near him. But he had to try. The worst she could do was hex him, and he didn't think that she would do that.

He walked towards the Gryffindor common room with thousands of thoughts in his mind. But a hand on his arm prevented him from entering the Portrait Hole, which had miraculously swung open as a first year exited. He turned and found himself face to face with Padma. She had puffy eyes, but contrary to when he'd seen Hermione, he didn't feel sorry for her.

"We need to talk," she said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the sobs that Harry was sure were coming.

"I don't have time, Padma," Harry said, annoyed.

"I know that they took you to the Hospital Wing," she said, ignoring him. "How are you doing?" And then, without waiting for his answer, which Harry was sure she didn't mind at all, she said, "You weren't serious when you said that I'm not your girlfriend anymore, were you?"

Harry couldn't help feeling pleased with the fear in her voice; he had to concentrate to keep from smirking.

"Listen, Padma," he said. "I don't have time right now to talk about that."

Padma took his hand. "No, Harry. We need to talk. I love you."

Harry looked at her, trying to understand if she was serious or not. He came to the conclusion that he didn't care.

"Yeah, well, thank you, Padma," he said stiffly. "The problem is that I don't love you."

Padma's eyes filled with tears, but luckily at that moment Dean Thomas approached the Fat Lady and Harry managed to listen to him while he said, "Whomping Willow" to the portrait. He followed him inside, and heard a loud sob coming from Padma before the portrait closed at his back.

He looked around, but there was no sign of Hermione. Harry imagined that she was crying in her bedroom, and a lump closed his throat again. Then an idea crossed his mind. If he wanted to know anything about her, he could simply ask someone that had been there all the time - Ron.

He climbed the stairs two at a time and entered his dorm, looking for his best friend. But Ron wasn't there. The only one there was Neville.

"Neville, have you seen Ron?" asked Harry, trying to catch his breath after the run.

Neville looked at him as if he had just thrown up. He stepped towards him and without warning, he punched Harry on his nose, making him fall on his back.


	7. Friends?

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.

A/N: I'm sorry for the delay, terribly sorry. The waiting for chapter eight will be shorter than this passed one. Don't worry! Anyway, I really hope that you'll like this chapter. Let me know what you think, no complaining for the cliffy end, though! ;)

To Lyndsie Fenele: Thanks for your help and for beta-reading this chapter.

**Friends?**

Harry tasted some of the blood that was flooding down his nose. He raised his head, and his vision filled with black spots. He looked at Neville, who seemed very sorry for him.

"Neville," said Harry hoarsely. "What did you do that for?"

Neville stretched his arm towards him and offered his hand to Harry. Standing, Harry walked slowly towards the bed.

"I had to, Harry," said Neville resolutely. "What did you do to Hermione?"

Harry turned his head and looked at him. Of course! What had Hermione said? That he could have said anything in front of her best friends. And she was indicating Neville and Ginny. Neville and Ginny were her best friends, just like she and Ron were for him.

"What did she tell you?" asked Harry, touching his nose. It hurt, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't broken.

Neville shrugged. "Nothing," he answered. "But her clothes were ripped and she was crying."

Harry looked at him, resisting the urge to punch him back. "Then why did you punch me if she didn't say anything?"

"Because she muttered something about you before running to her dorm, and Ginny talked to her and she said that she kept repeating your name," responded Neville. "What did you do to her?" he asked seriously.

Harry looked at him with his head tipped back to stop the flood of blood. "I did nothing," he said, trying to sound convincing. "I just wanted to see her scar."

Neville raised an eyebrow. "Why?" he questioned, puzzled.

Harry looked at him, confused. He didn't know what to answer him. He didn't even know why he'd done it. He had been blinded by his frustration and his will to understand something. But how to explain that to Neville?

"B-because I was curious," he answered slowly.

"You were curious? And since when you care about Hermione and what she does?" Neville asked heatedly. "You never care about us."

Harry looked at him intently. He would have said that there was a note of jealousy in Neville's voice, but why?

"I – aren't we friends Neville?" asked Harry, unsure.

"Friends?" Neville seemed disgusted at the very idea. "I would never be friend with someone who treats my best friends the way you do," he said. "And you would never be friends with someone as unpopular as me," he added, embittered.

Harry felt dizzy all of a sudden. "Unpopular? Do you mean that I'm popular?" he asked weakly.

Neville looked at him with his eyes narrowed. "Is this a joke or something like that?" he asked. "A test where I have to say that you're popular and have good with girls and as a reward you won't make fun of me in front of the class during Herbology?"

Harry looked at him, trying to understand if he was joking, but from Neville's serious expression he feared that he wasn't.

"N-no, Neville," stammered Harry. "Am I really so mean?"

"Should I say no?" asked Neville.

Harry looked at him petrified. "You should say the truth," he said slowly.

"Then, yes, you are," answered Neville, backing up, as if he was sure that Harry would hexed him at any moment. Harry thought that it must have cost him a great deal of courage to punch him in the face.

Harry nodded. Every time that he discovered something about himself he felt terribly bad, because it rarely was something good. He needed to know everything he could, and Neville seemed the right person to tell him.

Harry cleared his throat. "Neville, I know that it's a bit late to make up after seven years, but I would like to be your friend," he said calmly.

Neville looked at him sceptically. "I know what you want do," he answered coldly. Harry thought that he had never heard Neville talk so coldly to anybody, not even to Malfoy.

"R-really?"

"You like Hermione, and you want to be my friend so that you can get closer to her," he said hastily. "Well forget that!"

Harry looked at him and finally understood something. In his mind flashed the memory of Ron, who was telling him that Neville had asked Hermione to go to the Yule Ball with him. "You have a crush on her," said Harry before being able to stop himself.

He watched as Neville's face turned from a pale white colour to a red, and finally a bright magenta one. "N-no, I d-don't," he stammered in a bare whisper.

Harry smiled and his skin pulled where the blood had dried. "Neville, I swear that I don't like Hermione, not in that way at least, okay?"

Neville looked intently at Harry, maybe trying to understand if he was serious or not. His face was slowly coming back to its normal colour. "Okay," he said after a while.

Harry sighed in relief. He stretched out a hand towards him and smiled. "Friends?" he asked.

Neville bit his bottom lip, then took Harry's hand and shook it. "Friends," he conceded, not too enthusiastically.

"That's great," said Harry cheerfully. "Listen, Neville, I have to ask you a favour, now that we are friends," he added hastily.

Neville nodded.

"You have to tell me everything about what happened in the last seven years," said Harry.

Neville looked at him puzzled. "What do you mean, everything? You mean that you want to know all the events that happened in the last seven years in the world, or just in the United Kingdom?" he asked calmly. "Because I don't remember very well the last part of History of Magic. Hermione let me copy her notes, but I didn't really pay attention while I was doing it."

"What?" Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"You said _everything_," replied Neville.

"I didn't mean everything in the world or in the United Kingdom, just here at Hogwarts--every interesting thing, especially the ones that concerned you and your friends such as Hermione and Ginny," said Harry, hoping to sound casual.

"Well, you were here, weren't you? You already know what happened, don't you?" asked Neville, shrugging.

Harry took a deep breath so he wouldn't scream at his _new_ friend. "Yes, but you see, I've not paid a lot of attention to what you were doing, and I'd like to know you better, since we are friends," he said.

"Hmm, okay," answered Neville. "But I think I can skip over the things that happened in our first year, right? Since the entire school knows about that."

"No, Neville, it's really important for me to know. Really, really important," said Harry seriously.

"Okay," said Neville, frowning.

"Well, go on," said Harry impatiently. "Please," he added.

Neville nodded. He sat down on Harry's bed, leaning on his own leg, and took out his wand. "Do you want me to fix your nose?"

"What?" Harry had totally forgotten about the bleeding nose. He looked at Neville and remembered when he'd told him that everybody in his family thought that he wasn't magical enough to get in to Hogwarts. "N-no, never mind," he said hastily. "I'll do that later."

Neville shrugged, and pulled away the wand right as the door opened and a mass of red hair stormed into the dorm. "What are you doing on _his_ bed?"

Both Neville and Harry looked at Ginny, who stood near Seamus' bed with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. She walked towards them, stepping violently on the floor to make herself more intimidating.

"Neville, why are you sitting on Potter's bed like you're great friends?" she asked, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Neville smiled; evidently he wasn't worried at all. Harry wondered if he should worry. "Ginny, Harry has just decided to be my friend," said Neville calmly.

Ginny's eyes wandered from Neville to Harry and back to Neville. "Someone doesn't decide to become your friend all of a sudden, Neville. There must be something."

She looked back at Harry and smirked. "Did you ask to be friends with Neville whilst he was punching your nose? Were you asking for mercy?"

Harry shook his head, taken aback. "No," he replied curtly.

Ginny's smirk disappeared. "What did you do to Hermione?"

"Here we go again," muttered Harry annoyed. "I didn't do anything to her."

Ginny laughed coldly. "No, of course. Except banging her against the wall and ripping apart her clothes."

Neville stood up from the bed. "Banging her against the wall?" he asked hoarsely.

Harry gulped. "I didn't mean to," he said, trying to sound calmly. "I didn't mean to be so harsh."

"No, of course, you just wanted to be sweet and soft, but since she didn't submit to you, you were just trying to do it quickly," said Ginny with hatred.

"What are you talking about?" asked Harry, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"Do you think I'm stupid? You were trying to rape her," said Ginny coldly.

Neville gasped and Harry's eyes opened wide. "No!" he exclaimed while he jumped on his feet. "Did she say that to you?"

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Did she have to tell me? It was obvious."

Harry walked towards her and seized her arms. "I wasn't trying to do anything to her. I just wanted to see her scar, I swear," he said frantically.

Ginny struggled under his hands, and when he let her go she slapped him hard across the face, right were Hermione had hit him, and he felt all the pain that he hadn't felt before. He stood there, petrified by her reaction and her words.

"You disgust me, Potter," hissed Ginny. "What would the Ministry think if they knew that the son of two Aurors almost raped the famous Hermione Granger?"

"Ginny, listen, you have to believe me. I like Hermione," said Harry and Neville gasped another time. "Not in that way," he added hastily, "I like her just like a friend."

"Sure, and I'm a mermaid," said Ginny disdainfully.

Harry darkened. "What do I have to do so that you'll believe me?"

"Let me think," she said, pretending to think. "Oh yes, change the last seven years of humiliation that you inflicted on Hermione, and I'll believe you."

Harry looked at her frustrated. "I've already changed too much," he said.

"Being friend with Neville all of a sudden won't change anything," retorted Ginny, misunderstanding his thought.

Harry sighed. "I know, I just want you to give me another chance," he said in the most humble tone he could manage. "Do you think you can do that?"

Ginny's jaw dropped open and she looked at him in a very unkind way. "What? You're asking us to give you another chance to do what? Make fun of us in front of the entire school?"

"Am I really so horrible?" he asked her, hoping that she would give a different answer than Neville, but he didn't think she would.

"Of course you are," said Ginny aggressively. She was even worse than Neville. "What did you think?"

"And if I say that I'm sorry, it won't matter to you, right?" he asked, frustrated.

"Not much, no," he said harshly, crossing her arms on her chest.

"What can I do to make you-"

"What do you want, Potter?" Ginny cut him off. "Redemption for what you've done? You think that it's enough to beg our pardon to make everything okay?"

"No," said Harry seriously. Every minute that passed he was more and more disgusted by himself. "I know that I can't change anything, but I would feel better knowing that we're friends."

"And I would feel better knowing that we're not," snapped Ginny fiercely. "I would never be friend with a ra-"

"If you really think that I wanted to do what you said, then why didn't you go straight to Professor McGonagall? Why did you come here and tell me all these things?" asked Harry forcefully, cutting her off.

Ginny narrowed her eyes and didn't answer.

"Because you don't think that I meant to do anything like that to Hermione," snapped Harry. "That's why."

"Okay, maybe I don't think that you wanted to do something like that to her, but that doesn't mean that we can be friends. You really meant it when you said that Hermione was a liar when she told everyone that You-Know-Who was lurking for the Philosopher's Stone," said Ginny.

Harry took a deep breath. He was _lurking_ for information, instead. "Maybe I did, but I didn't mean to."

"Oh, well, then you're just a poor, misunderstood boy," she said sarcastically.

"Stop it!"

Both Harry and Ginny turned towards Neville, who was looking at them with his head low and his fists closed. He raised his eyes on Ginny and Harry saw that he was pink. "If he says that he's sorry maybe we should believe him, don't you think?" he asked shyly.

Ginny sighed. "Neville, you're just blinded by the fact that the 'popular Potter' has asked you to be your friend, you-"

"No!" he cut her off. "No, Ginny. He's different. I punched him and he didn't hex me or punch back. And he wants to know all the things that we've done with Hermione since we came to Hogwarts."

Ginny looked at Harry. "Really?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Why?"

"Because I want to know you better," he said, and it was true. He wanted to know everything.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "You're strange, Potter. Not that I didn't know that, but you are really strange," she said less aggressively, but not exactly in a friendly way. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," said Harry hopefully.

Ginny eyed him and sat down on her brother's bed. "You'll ask and we'll answer, but if you make fun of anything we say I swear that I'll hex you," she said, and Harry didn't think for even a second to contradict her.


	8. Bedtime Story

Disclaimer: Whatever you recognize is not mine. 

A/N: Sorry for the delay, my beta-reader was ill. Lyndsie, sweetie, I hope that you are all right now. Well, I really think that most of you will be disappointed with this chapter, I'm not sure why I feel this way, though. I really really hope that it won't be like that at all. Anyway, I wanted to thank all the people that are reading and reviewing this story, you really make my day, guys. By the way, hopefully next chapter will be up soon. 

To Lyndsie Fenele: Thanks so much for beta-reading my work. 

**Bedtime**** Story**

Ginny leaned against one of the columns of her brother's bed canopy and looked at Harry, while he moved a little bit away to make room for Neville. 

"So?" she asked impatiently. "What do you want to know?" 

"Er, pretty much everything," answered Harry. "For example, what can you tell me about First year?" 

"Your first year or mine?" asked Ginny, impatiently.

"Mine," answered Harry. 

Ginny looked at Neville, and so did Harry. "Uh?" 

"Neville, I wasn't here during your first year, I think _you_ should tell him," answered Ginny. "Even if everyone in the in world knows what happened here," she added sourly.

Neville nodded. "Well, in our first year we all had the same classes: Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration-"

"Neville, no," Harry cut him off. "What happened with Voldemort and Hermione." 

"Oh," muttered Neville, who had gone a bit white when Harry had named Voldemort. "Yeah, well, you know that Professor Dumbledore kept the Philosopher's Stone in a secret room, don't you?" asked Neville. 

Harry nodded. "I just want to know what happened that night," said Harry rather impatiently. 

"Well, _that night_ Hermione passed all the tricky tests that Dumbledore had placed to protect the Stone, and she reached the chamber just in time to find Quirrel, with You-Know-Who on his head. He was trying to figure out how the Mirror of Erised worked. When she told Professor McGonagall that she had some suspicions about him she didn't believe her, but she had to change her mind," said Neville proudly. 

"Some suspicions about Quirrel? Didn't she think it was Snape who wanted to steal the Stone?" asked Harry.

"Snape?" asked Neville. "No, he's not her favourite teacher, but Dumbledore trusts him and so does Hermione." 

"And?" asked Harry. 

"And what?" 

"What happened next?" plied Harry.

"Well, nobody was down there with her, so we just know that Quirrel must have touched her and he couldn't stand it. She was still protected by her mother's love," explained Neville. Harry noticed how well that seemed to fit a person like Hermione. "That's why Quirrel died and You-Know-Who disappeared for a while." 

"She was down there all alone? Weren't you with her?" asked Harry, trying to sound casual. 

Neville lowered his eyes. "She didn't let me," he said sadly. "She said that it was really dangerous and that she had to do it alone. She didn't want to put me in danger." 

Harry nodded. He understood, and the fact that he hadn't stopped his friends from coming with him made him feel bad all of a sudden, and then he felt ever worse when he understood that Hermione had managed to reach the Philosopher Stone all alone. She had passed the Devil's Snare, she had seized the key, she had played on the chessboard, she had solved the riddle with the potions, and she had defeated Quirrel, all by herself.

"Potter!" Ginny called his name and snapped her fingers in front of him. "Are you deaf?" 

"What?" asked Harry, snapping out of his thoughts.

"I asked you what you want to know next. I asked you _three times_," she said with annoyance. 

"Sorry, I was just lost in my thoughts," he answered. "What happened in Second year?" 

"Hermione rescued me from You-Know-Who," said Ginny slowly. "In the Chamber of Secrets." 

"How did it happen?" asked Harry with a note of urgency in his voice.

"She found out that the monster that was wandering through the school was a Basilisk and-"

"But she'd been Petrified," said Harry, cutting her off. 

Ginny laughed. "You really _are_ out of your mind, Potter, you know that? It was Colin Creevey who'd been Petrified, and Nearly-Headless-Nick, and Justin Finch-Fletchley." 

"And Penelope Clearwater," suggested Neville. 

"Yeah, and her," she agreed. "Hermione? She was the one that saved the day, and me." 

"What did she do?" asked Harry. "How did she get rid of Lockhart?" 

"Get rid of Lockhart?" asked Ginny, raising her eyebrows. "There was no need to get rid of Lockhart. He left the evening that Hermione entered the Chamber. She opened the Chamber and fought against You-Know-Who and the Basilisk."

"All alone?" asked Harry, uncomfortable.

"She had a little help from Fawkes," sentenced Ginny. "But she did almost all by herself." 

"And can she speak _Parseltongue_?" asked Harry.

"Sure she does, you saw her, during the first session of the Duelling Club. She talked to that snake Malfoy had made appear. She was telling it to stay away from Justin, and instead everybody thought that she was telling it to attack him," said Ginny, glaring at Harry. "You were first," she added accusatorily. 

Harry gulped. "I'm sorry." 

Ginny shrugged her shoulders with annoyance. "What do you want to know next?" she asked. 

"What about the Third year? Who escaped from Azkaban?" he asked hastily. 

Ginny and Neville exchanged a surprised look, as if Harry was talking nonsense. They looked at each other attentively, as if mentally deciding what to answer to him. 

"Nobody escaped from Azkaban, Harry," said Neville, after a while. "In our third year nothing important happened." 

Harry's eyes wandered from Ginny to Neville. "But Sirius – I mean Hermione's godfather – doesn't she have a godfather?" 

"She must have a godfather," answered Ginny annoyed. "Everybody has one." 

"And wasn't he in Azkaban?" asked Harry. 

"Not that I know. She comes from a Muggle family. Even if her godfather deserved to go to jail, they would have sent him into a Muggle one," said Ginny intelligently. 

"What? Nobody escaped from Azkaban? And Scabbers? And Lupin?" asked Harry frenetically. 

"Scabbers who?" asked Ginny back. "Professor Lupin taught Defence Against the Dark Arts that year, and then he left." 

"Why did he leave? If there was no Sirius, and no Scabbers?" asked Harry without understanding. 

"Because someone spread the news that he was a werewolf. And I bet that it was Malfoy," said Ginny with spite. It was nice to see her turning her hatred against someone other than Harry. 

"And what happened that year?" he asked.

"Nothing strange, if that's what you mean," said Ginny slowly. "Except for the snow." 

"The snow?" asked Harry puzzled.

"Murderer snow," said Ginny seriously. 

"Really?" asked Harry. 

Ginny laughed. "No! Blimey, how crazy are you?" she asked mockingly. 

Harry looked at her and tried to ignore the fact that she was making fun of him. He thought that he deserved it. He simply nodded, causing Ginny to stop laughing. 

He looked at her and saw that she was looking at him, rather flustered. "I was kidding," she said, trying hard not to flush. 

"I know," said Harry. He cleared his throat and looked at Ginny. "Can you go on, please?" 

Ginny eyed him suspiciously, and Harry thought that she must have never heard him say 'please'. "In your fourth year there was the Triwizard Tournament," started Ginny. 

"Did Hermione enter it?" asked Harry.

Ginny snorted. "As if she would be so reckless," she snapped. "By now everybody knows that it was Barty Crouch Jr. who put her name in the Goblet of Fire." 

"And did Cedric die?" asked Harry hoarsely. 

Ginny and Neville exchanged another look. "No, naturally, don't you like him? I thought that you and my brother supported him instead of Hermione." 

"You mean that he's still at school?" asked Harry.

"Hell no," exclaimed Ginny. "He has finished three years ago." 

Harry looked at Ginny blankly. Cedric was alive. But he wasn't pleased. Why wasn't he? Because Hermione was a better Chosen One than him, because all the people that Voldemort had killed because of him were still alive thanks to Hermione. He felt jealousy rising against the girl who was ten times better than him. 

"Potter!" Ginny was calling again his name. "You seem miles away," she said. "What's wrong with you?" 

"Nothing, what were you saying?" asked Harry hastily. 

"We were talking about Cedric Diggory," she answered. 

"Yes, he survived. Did Hermione reach the cup first?"

"Yes, she reached the cup first and it was a Portkey. She was brought into the Riddle cemetery. And there your father's friend used Hermione's blood for a ritual to make the Dark Lord raise again," she said accusatorily. 

"M-my father's friend?" asked Harry. "But my parents are Aurors, who-" He stopped, while the truth hit him like a knife. "Pettigrew," he muttered. 

Ginny nodded. "Your father's friend," she repeated. "It's no wonder you're so treacherous." 

Neville looked at her. "Maybe you're exaggerating a bit, Ginny, don't you think?" he asked shyly. 

Ginny sighed. "But he's mean, isn't he?" 

Neville agreed. "Yes, he is." 

"Thank you," said Harry sarcastically. 

"You're welcome," answered Ginny as sarcastically as him. "Want to hear what happened Fifth year?" she added with a smile. Harry imagined that it must have been very funny for her to talk to him like he was a stupid or dumb, someone who didn't even remember what he had done in the last years of his life. Well, he didn't mind. 

"Yes, please," he said. 

"Nothing important," said Ginny. "Nothing important, if you don't count Hermione being bullied because she said that You-Know-Who was back. The Daily Prophet has been very mean to her, but you must know that, because you did an interview with them about how strange she was." 

"D-did I?" asked Harry hoarsely.

"You and my brother Ron. I think that it was because of that that your parents took away your broom, right Potter? My brother kept telling me that it was Snape's fault, but you can tell me, now that we are friends," she said mockingly. 

Harry thought that if his parents had taken away his broomstick because of that, they had all the right in the world to do so. "Yes, it was because of that," he said seriously. He didn't know if it was true, but it didn't matter; it made him feel better imagining that they had punished him for what he had done. 

Ginny smirked. 

"But the Order? The fight in the dungeons? None of that happened?" asked Harry without being able to stop himself, asking and asking again.

"The Order of the Phoenix?" asked Ginny. "Of course there's the Order, you should know that, your parents are members of it. And your parents' friends as well." 

"What about _your_ parents?" 

"Both mine and Neville's parents are as well," she said, raising her eyebrows. 

Harry turned towards Neville so quickly that he heard a loud crack come from his neck. "Your parents?" he asked in a bare whisper.

"Yeah, they're Aurors, too, and they work with your parents," said Neville calmly. 

"A-aren't they at St. Mungo's?" asked Harry his voice shaking a bit.

"No, they're Aurors, not Healers," said Neville, arching an eyebrow. 

"Repeat after me, Potter, A-U-R-O-R," said Ginny derisively. 

Harry looked at her as she burst into laughter; naturally, if there wasn't any prophecy about a little Harry, there wasn't one for Neville, and his parents hadn't been tortured and driven mad by the Death Eaters. 

"What were you saying about a fight in the dungeons?" asked Ginny, snapping him out of his thoughts again.

"There was a fight in the dungeons of the Ministry of Magic for the Prophecy about Voldemort and the Chosen One," said Harry. "There must have been." 

"You're dreaming, Potter," said Ginny slowly. "There was no fight. There might have been one if Hermione had fallen for You-Know-Who's trap and went to the Ministry, but she didn't and Dumbledore broke the Prophecy long before the Death Eaters reached the Ministry. Malfoy's father was sent to Azkaban for entering with his friends." 

"So, nobody died," muttered Harry. He felt suddenly sick. He remembered his fifth year, when Hermione had told him to wait, that she was sure it was a trap, but he hadn't listened to her. He had to go and be the hero, but Hermione was a better heroine than he had ever been. 

"No, nobody died. You hoped for the contrary, Potter?" asked Ginny teasingly.

"Ginny!" Neville looked at her resolutely. "Let him alone for just a moment." 

Ginny shrugged. "And then we get to your sixth year, Potter, quite uneventful too, if you ask me," she said dismissively. 

"But, the Horcruxes? Malfoy and the cabinet? How can you say that it was uneventful?"

"Oh, no sure," said Ginny, patting her forehead theatrically. "You passed Potions at your O.W.L.s. That would be an event if it wasn't for the fact that you cheated." 

"I did what?" asked Harry in disbelief. "It's impossible to copy during O.W.L.s." 

"I know, but it's not impossible to have a look at the tests before they come out, if your parents work at the Ministry, right?" she said with contempt.

"My parents gave me the tests before they came out?" asked Harry.

"Your father, actually. He despised the fact that his son wouldn't become an Auror, and he knew that Snape would never give you the mark required to take his class after your fifth year, so he gave you the test." Ginny started to laugh again. "He must have been so angry when he saw that you hadn't passed Transfiguration, wasn't he, Potter?" she asked between laughter.

Harry felt his head spinning. He had cheated? And with his father's help? His parents' image in his mind was shattering, like the time that he saw Snape's memory in the Pensive. And after all his father has done for him he hadn't even passed Transfiguration.

"By the way," said Ginny, becoming serious again. "How do you know about the Horcruxes?" 

Harry gulped. "Why? Is it a secret?" He already knew that it was a secret, but he didn't know what else he could have told them.

"Obviously," snapped Ginny. "Oh, I know. You spied on Hermione and I while we talked about them." 

"What?" asked Harry. 

"Sure, during your stay at the Burrow for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Hermione stayed at my house as well, and you must have heard us," she said accusatorily. 

"No, I-" he stopped, thinking that it wasn't a bad idea to agree with her, after all he had nothing better to invent. "Yes, I overheard you two talking. And I was wondering what was Hermione's link with the Horcruxes." 

Ginny looked at him with disgust. "You know what Horcruxes are, Potter?" 

Harry nodded. 

"Well, Hermione and Dumbledore want to destroy every Horcrux that You-Know-Who made and then defeat him completely," said Ginny. 

"But the first Horcrux? Didn't they find it?" asked Harry, wondering what could have changed that night.

"The diary?" asked Ginny.

"No, the one in the cave, near the sea," said Harry recklessly. 

"Oh, that one." Ginny looked at him questioningly. Harry knew that she was thinking that he knew more things that he wanted to let out. "Sure, they found it. But someone had already destroyed it." 

"R.A.B.," said Harry.

"How do you know?" asked Ginny, narrowing her eyes. 

Harry shrugged. "But when they came back, weren't there Death Eaters? How did Dumbledore survive?" 

"Hermione and Dumbledore had both drank some Felix Felicis, nothing could have gone wrong," said Ginny.

"But the Death Eaters? Malfoy used the Room of Requirement to repair the vanishing cabinet to let the Death Eaters enter the school," said Harry hastily. 

"No," said Ginny, as if she was talking to a five-year-old boy. "Malfoy was working on something, but he got ill halfway throughthe year, and he went out of his mind, or something like that." 

"Really?" asked Harry.

"Yes, and by the way, what is the Room of Requirement?" 

Harry looked from Ginny to Neville, and they were both staring back at him questioningly. "You don't know what it is?" he asked in disbelief. "Where did we have our D.A. meetings in our fifth year?" 

"Our what?" asked Neville.

"D.A. meetings, Dumbledore's Army meetings, you know, lessons for Defence Against the Dark Arts," explained Harry. "Didn't we have them?" 

"No, and I don't have the slightest idea what you are talking about," said Ginny frankly. 

"Oh," said Harry. They hadn't done anything like the D.A. meetings, and Harry felt a bit pleased with himself. But then again, since Malfoy didn't know about the Room of Requirement he hadn't had the chance to bring Voldemort's task to an end. And Dumbledore was still alive. He felt frustrated once again.

Harry was snapped out of his thoughts when Ginny stood up from the bed. 

"Where are you going?" asked Harry. He had thousands of other questions about himself and his behaviour in the last years.

"You've had your bedtime story, Potter, now I have to go," she said seriously. "You aren't right in your head, you know that, right?" 

Harry nodded darkly. He could imagine what effect he must have had on her, seeming as if he suffered total amnesia or total stupidity. 

Ginny passed by him without even looking at him. "See you at dinner, Neville," she said.

"Okay," answered Neville. 

When Ginny exited, Harry heard Ron's voice yelling something at her, and she answered back with another shout. Then Ron entered and stared, petrified, at the scene in front of him. 

"Why are you sitting on Harry's bed, Neville?" He didn't say it with nastiness, but with great surprise. "Harry, what did you do to your nose?" he asked when he spotted the dried blood on Harry's face.

"Nothing," said Harry hastily. 

Ron looked at him and sighed, then he looked at Neville and frowned. "Okay, well, I think I'll go get ready for dinner." 

Neville stood up. "I'll go look for Hermione," he said. "See you later, Harry." 

"Sure," answered Harry, as Neville exited the dorm.

He looked up at Ron and saw that he was still looking at him, concerned. "We have to talk, Harry," said Ron. "I don't even recognize you anymore." 

Harry shrugged. "Perfect, Ron, because I need to know what I've done in the last seven years, and who better than you to help me?" 


	9. A Worse Harry

Disclaimer: If Harry Potter was mine, I wouldn't have left Dumbledore die.

A/N: Sorry for the waiting, real life issues. I really hope that you'll like this chapter, yeah, we are going to know a bit what happened to Harry, but always through Ron's point of view. The next updates will be faster, I swear, so don't worry. Anyway, as always, let me know what you think about this. Enjoy this chapter!

To Lyndsie Fenele: Thanks a lot sweetie, despise all the things that happened you still had time to help me with this chapter.

**A Worse ****Harry**

Ron collapsed on his bed with a blank expression. He raised his eyes and looked at Harry, gulping. "Harry, what did you mean when you said that you need to remember what you've done?"

Harry smiled affably. "Exactly what I said."

"Why?" asked Ron, without understanding. "Have you been hit by a Memory Charm?" He seemed to realize something. "Did my sister do something to you?"

"No, and neither did Neville," said Harry calmly.

"What about Granger?"

"No, Ron," said Harry patiently. "They didn't do anything to me. I simply need to know myself better."

"Since when?" asked Ron, not at all convinced.

"Since today," answered Harry simply. "I mean, do we have fun? No wait, do we study a lot?" Harry stopped to think. "No, better, is it true that I've cheated on Potions exam during the O.W.L.s?"

Ron frowned a bit, and looked away from him. "You didn't cheat during the Potions exam, Harry."

Harry sighed in relief.

"We cheated together," continued Ron, causing Harry to gasp. "You passed me the test as well. Without your help I would have never got Potions after our fifth year. You're the best friend I've ever had."

Harry looked at him with his eyes wide while Ron was still looking away, and Harry noticed that his cheeks were turning a bit pink. "Really?" he asked hoarsely.

"Sure," continued Ron. "Nobody else would have Confounded McLaggen for making me miss the Quidditch trials, or would have stolen Granger's notes in History of Magic to let me copy them."

"I did what?" asked Harry horrified.

"You stole her notes and you were brilliant," said Ron, turning to look at him with a big grin on his face. "I mean, telling her to go to Professor Sprout because she was looking for her, and while she was away you stole them."

Harry tried to smile back, but from Ron's expression he understood that he wasn't succeeding very well.

"Are you alright?" asked Ron. "You look like you're going to be sick."

Harry nodded. "I'm fine," he said slowly. "Can you tell me something that we did together that didn't concern Hermione Granger or anybody else?"

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Sure," he said. "Well, we have great fun, especially during summer."

"Do I still come to your house?" asked Harry.

"On alternate summers," said Ron, smiling. Harry thought that Ron was starting to consider it all a joke, or maybe he really thought that Harry had been hit by something. "One summer you come to the Burrow and the other one I come to your house. And we prefer your house, naturally."

"Really?" asked Harry.

"Sure. There's more place for us and the little Quidditch pitch behind your house is great," sentenced Ron.

Harry smiled. "Do I really have a Quidditch pitch behind the house? Like the one at the Burrow?"

"What? Oh, thanks a lot for considering that a pitch, Harry," said Ron, smiling. "No, yours is a bit better," he said slowly. "You know, with the hoops and the sets of balls and the stands for people," he added, sighing. "Your house is wonderful."

Harry felt a bit better.

"And your parents are wonderful," continued Ron. "Mine never let us do anything, we can't scream because there's always someone that's studying, we can't play Quidditch too high in the air because Muggles could see us, we can't even give you a proper bedroom because we haven't enough rooms."

Harry looked at him. He seemed frustrated by his own inadequacy, now even more than usual, since this Harry owned more things than he did in his reality.

"And when Ginny invites that Granger, we can't even go this close them." He raised his thumb and index finger very close to each other. "Although Ginny will tell Mum, and we won't be able to use the pond for a week."

"Why the pond?" asked Harry.

"Because of that time in our fourth year, when she almost drowned when we turned her bathing suit into a rock-heavy one," said Ron calmly. "But we didn't want to make her drown, remember? I made her artificial respiration," he added. "Although who would have listened to Mum?" asked Ron, laughing.

"Yeah," said Harry slowly. "I-I guess so."

"Anyway, she's alive, isn't she? I still can't understand why Mum made a fuss out of nothing," said Ron, snorting. "Oh, by the way, have you made up with Padma?"

"What?" asked Harry, for whom Padma was the last of his thoughts. "Not exactly."

"But you talked to her, didn't you?" asked Ron, concerned.

"Why are you so damn worried about Padma and I?" asked Harry, a bit harsher than he intended.

"Because she invited us all for Christmas, remember that?" asked Ron slowly. "At her house, you, me and Lav, her parents are away for a week with Parvati and we have the whole house to ourselves."

"What? Aren't I going home for Christmas holidays?" asked Harry, fearing that he mightn't have the chance to see his parents.

"No, and you were so glad to stay a bit away from your house, since your parents are great people, but a bit oppressive," said Ron calmly.

"They're what?" asked Harry. He had to smother the urge to punch his best friend.

"Hey, your words, mate," said Ron, raising his arms.

"A-aren't I happy?" asked Harry, feeling that he could kick himself if the answer wasn't positive.

"Sure you are," Ron said hastily. "I mean, aren't you? I thought you were."

"Really?"

"Harry, of course you are! You have me as your best friend," he said, grinning, "and Padma, one of the most beautiful girls in the whole school, as your girlfriend, what do you want more?"

"How are my marks?" asked Harry, feeling a bit better because of Ron's discourse. "Why didn't I pass Transfiguration?"

"Because it was difficult?" asked Ron slowly.

"Did you pass it?" he asked hastily.

"Nope, but I don't mind," said Ron, shrugging. "And I thought that you didn't either."

"But, we won't become Aurors without Transfiguration," pointed out Harry.

"Yeah, it's not exactly like we want to become Aurors anyway, right?" asked Ron.

"No?"

"You want to become a professional Quidditch player, or have you changed your mind?" asked Ron, raising an eyebrow.

"A Quidditch player?" he asked back. He had never thought about becoming a professional Quidditch player. "Do you think that I could become one?"

"Well, you still haven't got an answer from the Montrose   
Magpiesand from the Tutshill Tornados, but maybe in the next few months you'll get one," he said, shrugging. "You could have applied for the Cannons, though."

Harry shrugged. What could he have answered? He didn't even know that he had already asked for that job.

"Oh, look, it's almost dinnertime, better if we go downstairs, don't you think?" asked Ron, sitting up.

Harry nodded.

"Do you want me to fix your nose first?"

"What?" Harry instinctively brought a hand to his nose and jumped at the pain the action caused; he had completely forgotten about his bleeding nose. "Yes, thanks."

Ron waved his wand in front of Harry's nose and Harry felt the pain that his touch has just awakened disappear completely. "Episkey," said Ron, and Harry felt the blood vanishing from his face.

"Thanks," said Harry.

"Sure, what are friends for?" asked Ron, smiling.

"And Ron, about earlier, I didn't mean to push you, nor to be so rude," said Harry sheepishly. "I was just upset."

Ron smiled. "Never mind, Harry. I know how you feel. You're still nervous because of Cho's letter," he said, opening the dorm's door.

"Cho's letter? Cho sent me a letter?" asked Harry, following him closely down the stairs.

"Yes, it arrived yesterday," said Ron, smiling. "You know, the one where she said that she still loves you and can't stop thinking about you. You have a thing for Ravenclaws, haven't you?"

"Cho still loves me?" asked Harry in disbelief.

"Yes, but better if you shut your mouth, if Lav hears us she'll surely tell Padma and I don't think that she'll be very happy to know that your ex-girlfriend still writes to you," he said, walking towards Lavender in the common room.

"Hi sweetie," said Ron, smiling.

"Hi Won-Won," answered Lavender, throwing her arms around his neck and starting to kiss him in a way that made Harry want to throw up. After what seemed ages, Lavender let him go, just to catch her breath before attacking his lips another time.

"Well, I'll just go," said Harry. "See you at dinner," he added, exiting the portrait hole without even checking if they'd heard him. He didn't mind.

As soon as he placed his feet on the floor of the corridor, a girl threw herself towards him, crying, screaming and banging her fists weakly on his chest. Harry couldn't understand exactly what she was saying since every word was interrupt by a loud sob, but he had the sensation that it was nothing good. He blocked her wrists and pulled her away.

"Padma?" he called her loudly. "What are you saying?"

Padma raised her eyes to Harry's and looked at him fiercely. "I know why you left me," she said harshly, freeing her arms from his hands.

"I don't think so," said Harry truthfully.

She nodded. "Cho Chang owled me," she said. "And she said that I had to stay away from you."

"She did what?"

"Don't pretend to be surprised, she said that she had owled you as well," she said fiercely. "Where's her letter?"

"I don't know," said Harry, and he really didn't.

"Liar," hissed Padma. "If you wanted to leave me, you didn't have to do anything else than tell me the truth."

"Padma, listen, I didn't leave you because of Cho," Harry tried to explain, while Padma looked at him with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. "It's because of me, I'm not good enough for you."

Padma raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? I was the one that had to ask you out first, because you were too good to even notice me."

"Really?" asked Harry; evidently he had found the wrong excuse.

Padma nodded, then a smile appeared on her mouth. "You are really sweet to say those things, Harry. But you don't have to worry, I love you whatever you do or say," she said and, throwing herself towards him, she started to kiss him fiercely.

Harry's eyes widened, what was wrong with the world? Padma was kissing him. Padma Patil was kissing him. Padma Patil was kissing him as if her life depended on it. Harry felt a bit ashamed when he started to enjoy the kiss and the thought that she was a good kisser crossed his mind. But he shouldn't be kissing Padma. He hadn't even talked to her properly before that day. He remembered having heard her voice, but not while she talked to him. He was kissing a girl for whom he didn't care.

"Uh-oh, someone made up at last," said Lavender, as she exited with Ron from the common room. Padma let Harry go and giggled to her friend, who giggled back. Harry wondered if Ron and Lavender had gone on kissing until that very moment.

"Oh, stop grinning, Lav," said Padma, flushing. "I'm starving, let's go have dinner."

They walked down the corridor and climbed down stairs, reaching the Great Hall.

"See you later, sweetheart," said Padma, making some fifth years turn towards them and snigger as she kissed him again. Harry flushed, mumbled something that sounded like an 'okay', and followed Ron and Lavender to the Gryffindor table. When he passed near Hermione, Ginny and Neville, Neville greeted him cheerfully, but Ginny glared at his friend so promptly that Harry didn't even have the time to greet him back before he turned away.

"Harry, come on," Ron called him.

Harry reached his best friend and sat down across of him and Lavender, and next to Parvati, who was kissing Seamus.

He lowered his eyes to the plate filled with roast beef and started to concentrate on his dinner, trying hard to block out all the sucking sounds made by the couples that were snogging around him.

"Hey, Harry," Lavender called him. "Look, this'll be precious," she added, nodding in the direction of a boy that was walking towards him.

"Harry, if you want I can show you my collection of seeds, after dinner," said Neville with a shy smile.

"As if Harry cares about your collection of seeds," said Lavender, causing a small crowd of people to laugh at him.

Neville turned rather pink. "B-but Harry and I are friends," he stammered.

"Sure, maybe in your dreams, Longbottom," said Parvati.

"Harry?" pleaded Neville. "Tell them that we're friends."

"Longbottom, just go with Granger and be the eternal sidekick that you have to be," said Ron, causing Harry to look at him in amazement. "And tell my sister that you two are pathetic, even more pathetic than Granger is."

Parvati laughed so shrilly in Harry's ear that for a moment he thought that he would have become deaf.

Neville was now as red as Ron's hair, and Harry could see his resigned glance when he looked at him, before turning and coming back to where Ginny and Hermione were sitting.

Harry had still the echo of the laughter of his friends in his ears when he stood up, placing his hands on the table.

"Harry, what's wrong?" asked Ron, while his laugh faded away.

"You're so damn mean to them, why?" he asked to all them.

They looked at him as if he was talking nonsense. Ron stood up as well, and placed a hand on his arm. "Harry, calm down, we were just joking," he said calmly.

Harry pulled Ron's arm away and walked away from them. Feeling their eyes on his head, he reached Neville, Ginny and Hermione. "Sorry, Neville," he muttered, before walking towards the door of the Great Hall and disappearing out it.


	10. A Simple Request

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: See? I quick update, isn't it? I really hope that you'll like this chapter as well, I know that not much is happening right now, but I swear that there'll be some action soon. Not action exactly, but something more… Let me know what you think about it.

To Lyndsie Fenele: Thanks a lot for beta-reading this chapter.

**A Simple Request**

Harry looked at the fire in the chimney of the common room. He had just come back from the nearest empty classroom. All he needed was some time by himself, far away from Ron and the other people that claimed to be his friends, and especially from Padma who seemed unable to keep her hands, and her lips, off of him.

The common room had been empty, everybody was already off to bed, when he'd entered. He had collapsed on the floor near the fireplace and stared at the flames that danced in front of him. And he was still there, too deeply concentrated on what Ron and Ginny had told him early that day to even hear the steps approaching him from behind.

He turned only when someone patted his shoulder. Neville stood there, with a small plant in his hands, smiling awkwardly. "Hi Harry," he said, sitting on an armchair near the fireplace.

Harry looked at him, without believing that he was actually talking to him after what he'd done, or better said, what his friends had done. "Hey, Neville," he said rather awkwardly. "Listen, I'm sorry for what happened before."

"You're sorry?" asked Neville surprised. "I'm sorry, Harry. I disturbed you while you were having dinner with your friends. And--"

"No," Harry cut him off darkly. "No, you didn't. I didn't want to stay with them anyway."

Neville nodded.

"Neville, I have to ask you something," said Harry, turning to look at him.

"Sure, Harry," he answered, smiling, happy that he was of some need to Harry.

"Is Hermione happy?" he asked seriously.

Neville looked at him, without understanding what he meant. "Harry, you mean now?"

"I mean, since you met her the first time, is she happy?" he asked again.

"Well, I guess sometimes she's happy, too," answered Neville slowly.

"Okay, great, but usually? Is she happy or not?"

Neville sighed. "No, not much."

"Why?" he asked frantically. He was happy, at least when he was at Hogwarts and at the Burrow.

"Because she always says that she doesn't do enough."

"She doesn't do enough for what?" asked Harry, without understanding.

"She doesn't do enough to fight You-Know-Who. And she says that everybody hates her, except for Ginny and I, of course," he said.

Both Neville and Harry jumped when someone cleared her throat at the base of the stairs. "Are you telling private things to Potter, Neville?" asked Ginny, with a light in her eyes. She stood there with Hermione at her side.

Neville stood up quickly, making the plant fall on the floor and the vase crash, while Ginny and Hermione walked towards them.

"Thanks a lot Neville, are you selling your friends to Potter?" asked Ginny sourly.

"No, I'm not," said Neville forcefully. "Harry just asked me something."

Ginny glared at Harry, but Harry didn't even notice. He had his eyes fixed on Hermione, who was doing her best to look everywhere but at him.

"Neville, you are so naïve," said Ginny, sighing.

"Reparo," said Harry calmly. "Here you are, Neville," he said, giving the plant back to Neville.

"Thanks," said Neville, smiling. "See?" he added to Ginny.

"I have to talk to you," said Harry.

"And if I don't want to talk to you?" asked Ginny haughtily.

"I wasn't talking to you," snapped Harry to her, without taking away his eyes from Hermione. "Hermione, I--"

"I don't want to talk to you, either, Potter," Hermione said coolly. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have to do my last patrol before midnight."

She took a step towards the portrait hole, but Harry jumped on his feet and placed himself between her and the hole. "No, you have to listen to me. I need your help."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You need my help? Why don't you ask your friends to help you?"

"Because they can't help me," he said forcefully, and he didn't know how she could help him either, but he didn't have any better idea. "You are the Chosen One, aren't you?" he snapped.

Hermione looked at him taken aback. "And you think that I can do anything because I'm the Chosen One, right?" she hissed.

"N-no, I don't," he stammered. What was wrong with him? He should have understood her better than anybody else, but he didn't. Now he felt ashamed to have screamed at her the night before. Harry sighed. "Please, Hermione, listen to me, I need you."

"Why are you asking me this?" she asked. "Why aren't you tying me to that armchair and making me listen to you? I can't remember you've asked me to see my scar, this afternoon," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"I didn't mean to do anything bad to you," he said sheepishly. "I especially didn't want to _rape_ you," he added in a bare whisper, blushing furiously.

Hermione blushed too. "I didn't think that," she answered hastily.

Harry looked at her in the humblest way possible. "Please, Hermione, I need your help. I've made a mess and I need you to help me put everything back to normality."

Hermione looked at him and bit her bottom lip. Harry imagined that she was struggling between the wish of helping him and the one of walking out of the common room without casting a further glance at him. He couldn't have blamed her, if she decided to go, but he really hoped that she would help him. Help him in doing what, though?

"I'll listen to what you want to ask me," she said. "But I can't promise that I'll help you."

Harry smiled. "Thank you, Hermione. Thank you so much," he said.

"I think that you are making a mistake, Hermione," said Ginny, sighing. "He's my brother's best friend. Remember when they tried to drown you?"

"Ginny, I'll just listen to him, okay?" said Hermione firmly. She walked towards the armchairs and sat down on one of them, imitated by Neville, and finally by Ginny. "So?" asked Hermione.

Harry looked at them blankly. What was he going to tell them? He didn't even know why he was pleading for her help; maybe he just wanted to make up to her, feeling sorry for all the past years in which he had been so mean to her.

"Potter?" asked Ginny. "Are you on this planet?"

Harry nodded. "Okay, well, I didn't expect you to consent to listen to me so quickly, I don't really know where to start," he said slowly.

Hermione shrugged. "What about the beginning?"

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I've had a fight with you yesterday evening--"

"No, Potter, you didn't, I mean I would remember pretty well if you'd had a fight with me, and yesterday night I didn't even--"

"Hermione, let me finish," Harry cut her off. "I had a fight with you, believe me."

"Okay," said Hermione unconvinced. "Then why did you have a fight with me that I can't remember?"

"Because I'm a stupid jerk," said Harry promptly.

"I think that this is the first time that I agree with Potter," exclaimed Ginny.

"Any other details?" asked Hermione, hiding a soft smile.

Harry opened his eyes and looked into hers. "Hermione, it's all my fault."

"You are a jerk, it's all your fault… is it already Christmas and I didn't notice?" asked Ginny sarcastically.

"Potter, what's your fault?" asked Hermione, trying to sound more patient than Harry thought anybody could have actually been.

"Your situation, everything that happened to you, your parents, Voldemort, everything is my fault," said Harry.

"And how could it be your fault?" asked Hermione taken aback.

Harry sighed deeply. "Hermione, if I tell you something are you going to believe me? Even if it'll turn out to be something completely absurd?"

"I think I'll try, but I don't assure you anything," said Hermione.

"I am the Boy-Who-Lived, the one that defeated Voldemort when just one year old. I am the Chosen One," he said seriously.

Hermione looked at him as if he was out of his mind, while Ginny burst into laughter, even Neville smiled a bit.

"It's true," said Harry gloomily.

"And you aren't the Boy-Who-Lived because--"

"Because I wished it to be," he continued.

"Oh yes, and you have the power to wish a thing and than it happens, right?" asked Ginny sceptically, whilst her laughter faded away.

"No," snapped Harry. "I saw a shooting star yesterday evening and I made the wish that everything that had happened to me because of Voldemort would have happened to Hermione instead."

"And your wish came true?" asked Hermione. "Just because of a shooting star?"

"Yes, I know it's strange, and it has never happened to me even if it wasn't the first shooting star on which I made a wish. But the thing is that it really happened," said Harry. "You have to believe me."

Hermione's lips curled into a smile. "Prove me to me that you are who you say you are, or better you _were_, and I'll believe you."

"What?" asked Harry in disbelief. "What can I do to prove that I'm really the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Surprise me."

"Okay, when you went looking for the Philosopher Stone, you found yourself in front of the Mirror of the Erised, and you saw yourself with the stone and then the stone was in your pocket. And Dumbledore told you that it was one of his best tricks, only one who wanted to find the stone--find it and do not use it--would have really come across it," said Harry so quickly that he hardly understood himself, but he really hoped that the others did.

Hermione was looking at him with a bewildered expression. "T-that doesn't prove anything," she stammered. "You could have overheard when Dumbledore told me these things in the Hospital Wing."

"I didn't," answered Harry. "You have to believe me."

"If you are so sure of yourself, tell me something else," challenged Hermione.

Harry concentrated on his past; he had to pay lots of attention because not everything that happened to him had happened to her as well. "In your second year, when you went looking for Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets, you descended a long passage in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, after you said 'open' in Parseltongue. In the Chamber you met Tom Riddle's memory and the Basilisk. Fawkes blinded the Basilisk and you finished it with the sword that you extracted from the Sorting Hat." Harry stopped for a moment to catch his breath; he really hoped that what he was saying was right, that Hermione really had done all those things. "And you finished Voldemort with one of the Basilisk's fangs that hurt your arm. Basilisk's fangs are poisoned, but Fawkes' tears have healing properties and you didn't die."

Hermione looked at him with her eyes wide. Her chest was rising rhythmically as if she had just run for miles. He could tell that her heart was beating frantically in her chest. he was sure that she was surprised. Or scared.

"Is that correct?" asked Harry.

"You're not the only one that knows these things," said Hermione nervously. "Dumbledore knows as well, and Ginny, and I've told Neville. You could have heard while I told him."

Harry looked at her angrily. "Okay, ask me something that I couldn't have heard in any place."

Hermione gulped, and twisted her hands in her lap nervously as she thought of something. "I – you--" Then something seemed to hit her. "What was the place like where I was transported to, when I touched the Cup in the maze at the end of the Triwizard Tournament?" she asked fiercely. "I haven't told anybody, and not even Dumbledore knows."

Harry smiled. She was making it extremely easy for him without even knowing. "You mean the cemetery next to Little Hangleton's Church? Where the Riddle House is located? Well it was really creepy if you ask me," he said calmly. "There was the tomb of Tom Riddle Senior and of all his family which was buried there and then Pettigrew arrived and--"

"Stop it!" screamed Hermione, jumping to her feet, her eyes filled with shiny tears. "Stop, I don't want to remember that," she shouted, running towards the stairs.

Harry, who was already on his feet, ran after her, and caught her arm before she could start to climb up the stairs to the girls' dorm. "Hermione, wait!" he said, pulling her towards him, and making her turn. "Do you believe me?"

Hermione looked into his eyes with her teary ones. "How do you know these things?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "How do you know what happened there? I didn't talk to anybody about that."

"Because I was there, instead of you," he said gently. "All the things that happened to you happened to me, and you don't deserve to suffer all the things that I've suffered."

"How do we know that you're not working for You-Know-Who?" asked Ginny from behind Harry.

He turned and noticed that she had her wand raised against him.

"I'm not working for Voldemort, Ginny," he said calmly.

"Prove it, Potter," she said.

Harry looked at her intensely, then he let go of Hermione and took a step towards Ginny.

"W-what do you want?" asked Ginny, backing a little. "I've no problem with hexing you, Potter – Potter, what are you do--"

Ginny's protests were silenced by Harry, who pressed his lips on hers and started to kiss her just like they used to do until that June. Ginny's weak attempts to struggle were immediately brought to an end when he placed his arms around her body. "Mmm," she moaned against his lips.

Harry let go of her quickly, ready to receive a slap across his face. And Ginny slapped him. Hard.

"How dare you?" she asked, astonished.

"Ginny, I've always kissed you like this, at least for a couple of months last year," sentenced Harry.

"What are you talking about?" asked Ginny confused.

"We were together, Ginny," explained Harry.

"I was with you?" asked Ginny in disbelief. "Why?"

Harry snorted. "Because you liked me since before you started school. Now would you please believe me?"

Ginny's jaw dropped, she looked at Hermione. "Don't believe him, I-I didn't--"

"Do you believe me?" asked Harry to Hermione, cutting off Ginny's weak protests.

Hermione looked at him darkly. Her tears had stopped flowing, but her eyes were still shining. "I have to think about what you said," she muttered, wiping away some of the tears from her cheeks. "I don't know if I believe you. Or if I can trust you."

"How long do you need to think?" asked Harry nervously.

"I'll tell you tomorrow if I can trust you," she replied, and, before Harry could block her this time, she hurried towards the portrait hole and exited.

Ginny glanced at Harry. "Goodnight," she said hastily, before climbing up the stairs, leaving Harry and Neville alone.

Neville looked at Harry and smiled eagerly, in a way that made Harry understand that he believed him. "Hey, Harry. So, in your world I'm with Hermione, right?"


	11. Conversation by the Lake

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K.Rowling.

A/N: Another quick update. My dream would be upload all the chapters before the last book comes out, I'll cross my fingers. Anyway, another quite uneventful chapter, but don't desperate. Oh, by the way, sorry for the cliff-hanger.

To Lyndsie Fenele: Thanks again for your help.

**Conversation b****y the Lake**

The next morning, when he woke up, Harry hoped that everything was back to normal and that it had all been a nightmare. He hopefully glanced at Ron's bed, but his friend wasn't there, and that meant only one thing.

"Hey, it's almost seven thirty, Harry," said Ron cheerfully, exiting from the bathroom. "Happy that you're awake finally."

Harry glared at him and buried his head under the pillow. He re-emerged only when he heard Ron knocking on the window glass with his hand. "Go away, stupid bird," he was saying.

Harry took the pillow from his head and looked at him. "What are you doing?" he asked sleepily, wearing his glasses.

"There's this stupid owl out the window," he answered, still knocking at the owl that didn't give any signal of wanting to fly away.

Harry looked at the owl out of window and jumped. "Hedwig!" he exclaimed. "Ron, stop it, it's Hedwig, can't you see it?"

"What? You know Granger's owl name?" asked Ron, stopping banging.

"I – what?" Then he suddenly understood something; if it wasn't his owl it must have been Hermione's. "No, no, I got confused."

"Go away," shouted Ron, banging another time on the window. "The girls' dorm is on the other side of the tower."

But the owl didn't seem to have any intentions of going away. Harry looked at it intently. Indeed, it was Hedwig; Hagrid must have bought it for Hermione when he brought her to Diagon Alley before her first year.

"Look, it has a letter tied to its claw," said Ron, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. "Maybe it's for Granger, we can read it," he added maliciously.

"No!" exclaimed Harry. He opened the window and took the letter from the owl, stroking its feathers a bit as he did so. Then he looked at the envelope and read his own name on it. The owl flew away.

"Luckily, you said 'no'," said Ron, laughing. "I was starting to fear that you were still strange like yesterday." He tried to grab the letter from Harry's hands, but he took it away.

Harry glared at him. "It's for me," he snapped. He sat on his bed and opened the letter. In Hermione's neat writing there were only eight words written on the parchment:

_Meet me near the Lake after breakfast. Hermione. _

Harry looked at Ron. "Do we have something at first hour today?" he asked him hastily.

"Not that I know," answered Ron. "Why?"

"Nothing, I need to see someone," said Harry, starting to dress quickly.

"And is this person called Hermione Granger?" asked Ron, looking at him unkindly.

"Even if it was, it's none of your business," snapped Harry, who was starting to feel really annoyed by that Ron.

"I was just asking," he answered, shrugging.

Harry nodded, then without a further word, he exited the dorm. He climbed down the stairs almost running and crossed the common room, without even minding who he was banging into. Knowing Hermione, she would have already finished her breakfast and now she was waiting for him near the Lake.

He reached the Great Hall and sat down all alone in the middle of the Gryffindor table. He shoved in his mouth as much scrambled eggs as he could afford and then stood up quickly and practically ran towards the door.

"Harry. Hi sweetheart, how are you this morning?" asked Padma, entering the Great Hall right before he could exit, and blocking his way out like a lion to a gazelle.

But Harry didn't have time to play the part of the loving boyfriend at that moment. "Not now, Padma," he snapped, pushing her aside. He walked out of the castle and raced down the hill towards the Lake, and there he spotted her. She was sitting under a tree, with her arms around her legs and her cloak that waving in the morning wind.

"Hermione!" he called out loud, when he was closer to her.

Hermione turned to look at him, but she didn't stand up. And Harry wasn't able to see if she was smiling or not because she turned away almost immediately. When he finally reached her, he placed his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Hermione didn't move, nor did she look at him.

"Hermione," Harry called her breathlessly. "I got your message."

"I see. You are here, Potter," she said coolly. Harry looked at her, taken a bit aback; her tone of voice made him think that anything she was going to tell him was not good.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked, fearing that she could have come up with the conclusion that she didn't want to listen to him.

Hermione nodded. "Everything is wrong," she muttered bitterly.

Harry sat down next to her. He brought a hand to his chest and felt his own heartbeat; it was so quick he thought that his heart would jump out of his chest at any moment. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

"Why?" he asked patiently.

"Because there's no way that you could have known what I saw when the Portkey brought me to the Riddle's cemetery. That means that you haven't lied and you really are who you said," sentenced Hermione.

"So you believe me, right?" asked Harry, feeling his head suddenly go light.

Hermione nodded. "I think I don't have any another choice than to believe you," she said. "But there's something that I don't understand." She finally looked at him.

"What?" he asked, smiling; he was ready to answer all her questions and doubts.

"What can I do to help you?" she asked simply.

Except this. Harry looked at her, without having a clue what he should answer. He didn't even know why he had told her all those crazy stories, and he was a thousand times grateful that she had believed him, but what Hermione could do to help him was a mystery. "I-I don't know, I thought you could help me make everything go back to normal," he said softly.

"Why do you want everything to go back to normal?" she asked, looking at him with her huge chocolaty eyes.

"What do you mean?" He hadn't thought even for a minute why he wanted to go back to normal.

"You made a wish and that wish came true," she explained. "And now you want to go back and put things exactly like they were before. Why? I'm wondering what do you want then?"

Harry glanced at the Lake. It was nice in that September morning, the rising sun was gradually lightening the whole surface, and in less than a couple of hours its rays would reach them as well.

"You said that you were wondering what I wanted when we had that fight," he said softly. "Now I just want to make things go back to normal. I don't know why."

"Is the world where you live better than this one?" she asked. "Are you a better Chosen One than me?" she added, and Harry couldn't help noticing the fear in her voice.

"I would love to tell you that I am, but I'm not," he said, sighing. "A lot of people have died because I didn't succeed in saving them."

"For example?" she asked in a tiny voice.

Harry flushed. "Dumbledore," he mumbled. "And Cedric Diggory, and Sirius Black."

Hermione looked intently at Harry. "Are you kidding me?" she asked softly.

Harry shook his head. The fact that she found these things so improbable made him feel bad.

Hermione brought both her hands to her mouth, as if she was trying to imagine a world like that. Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "If all those people are dead, why do you want to go back to how it was before you made your wish?" she asked.

Harry looked at her, taken aback. He didn't know. All he had thought until that very moment was that Hermione didn't deserve what she was going through, but he hadn't reflected on how much better this place was for everybody. Everybody but the Girl-Who-Lived.

"I wanted to change things again for you," he said softly. "You don't deserve all the things you have gone through."

"So you're feeling guilty, and you think that making things go back to how they were before will make you feel better?" she asked shortly.

"No… yes… I don't know," he confessed. "I hope that too, but firstly I want to see you happy."

Hermione blushed. "What did I do to make you so angry to have wished something so wicked?" The sorrow in her voice was almost concrete.

Now it was Harry's turn to flush. "Nothing," he admitted. "Nothing at all, you were just trying to be my friend and help me, like you've done for the last six years, but I simply snapped at you and said terrible things."

"Are we friends?" she asked softly.

Harry nodded. "You and Ron are my best friends. And the only ones I've ever had."

She tore some grass with her fingers and lowered her head. "And you and I have never been together?" she asked in a bare whisper, if possibly blushing even more than before.

"No," he said hastily. Maybe a bit too hastily.

"Oh," she muttered, and Harry had the sensation that she seemed a bit deluded. "Why?" she asked.

"Because we're friends, very close friends, and because you have a thing for Ron and vice versa," explained Harry.

Hermione looked at him amazed. "Something for Weasley?" she asked. "Now that's impossible."

"It's not. You two didn't speak to each other for months when Ron went out with Lavender and--"

"Weasley went out with Lavender in your world too? And what about me? Did I go out with him?" she asked curiously.

"Not yet," said Harry slowly. "But I'm sure that sooner or later you will."

"Okay," said Hermione unconvinced. "But there's something that I still don't understand."

"What?"

"What will I get back if everything goes back the way it was?" she asked seriously.

"Excuse me?" asked Harry in disbelief. "You'll have your family back, your life will be back to normal and you won't have to fight Voldemort anymore, isn't that enough?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, you're giving all this up. Why?"

Harry looked at her and felt anger boiling inside his veins. "I'm doing all this for _you_, how can you even ask me something like that?"

"I was just wondering," she answered hastily. "It feels so strange. In less than a day my worst enemy has become the most important person in my life and the one that I can trust most."

"I thought you'd say that your worst enemy was Malfoy," Harry corrected her.

"And I thought you'd have said that it was Voldemort," replied Hermione. "Malfoy is pathetic. He didn't even succeed in doing what Voldemort asked him to do and he gave in right after Christmas."

"Y-you know what he had to do? You know what Voldemort asked him to do?"

Hermione nodded.

"How?"

"Dumbledore knew and he told me," said Hermione calmly. "Malfoy was trying to repair something, but he couldn't find a place to hide it and stress and nervousness finished him."

"Is he dead?" asked Harry quickly.

"No," answered Hermione. "Of course not, but he's at St. Mungo's right now. In the Artifact Accidents ward."

"Artifact Accidents ward?"

"Yes, he was getting impatient and tried the vanishing cabinet before he actually fixed it." Hermione shook her head dramatically. "Let's say that they are still looking for the other half of his body."

Harry looked at her, surprised. Malfoy confined at St. Mungo's? Or better, half of Malfoy confined at St. Mungo's? He was starting to like this world.

Hermione stood up and brushed away some grass from her skirt. "I have to go now," she said resolutely.

"What? Where?" asked Harry, sitting up as well.

"I have Transfiguration," she explained.

"And what about me? I need your help," said Harry, starting to follow

her up the hill towards the castle.

"Potter, I don't have a clue how to help you," she answered truthfully.

"But, Hermione, you're the most intelligent witch of our age, you must have an idea how to fix this mess," he said.

"The best thing that I can think of is to talk to someone," said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Who? Dumbledore?" asked Harry.

"No, you'll see, but now I don't have time," she answered. "Let's meet near the Library after lunch, okay?"

"Okay, I trust you, Hermione," said Harry, smiling.

"Thank you," she answered, flushing. "See you later, Potter."

Harry looked at her climbing up the stairs to the oak door of Hogwarts, and while she was opening it he screamed, "Hermione, call me Harry, okay?"


	12. Auriga and Selene

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is not mine. Unfortunately. And even the story of Auriga and Selene.

A/N: Okay, so first of all… My story has become an AU!! Uff!! That's so unfair! J.K.R., couldn't you have waited a little with seventh book? (Especially since you get rid of my favourite male character!!) Secondly, I like this chapter. I like the explanation I gave behind what happened to Harry in this story, and it was cool to spend an entire day among Astronomy websites, looking for some interesting story to put in here. So… the story of Auriga and Selene is true, everything you find in this chapter is from Greek Mythology. And I really hope you'll like it. As always let me know what you think. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

To Lyndsie Fenele: Thanks so much for beta-reading this chapter, even if you have very few time at this moment.

**Auriga and Selene**

Harry's morning didn't proceed as well as he would have liked it to. In his real life he would have had Transfiguration with Hermione, but since in that world he wasn't taking it, it took him a lot to understand what he had to do. When he found out his timetable he noticed that he was late for Divination.

"_Divination_?" he screamed, looking at the timetable, horrified. How could he be taking Divination _again_?

He had to spend two boring hours staring into empty tea cups and revealing all the terrible omens that the threatening tea leaves were sending him. He didn't wait for Ron outside the classroom, and not even for Padma, who, to Harry's great horror was taking that class as well, along with Lavender and Parvati. But he hurried to lunch and beat every record for the quickest meal ever, before running towards the Library.

Hermione was already there, and Harry wondered how she could be so fast in everything she did. She was leaning against the wall with a huge Arithmancy book opened in her hands.

"Hey, Hermione," he said as he approached her. "Why didn't you wait for me _in_ the Library?"

Hermione raised her eyes from the book. "Because we don't have to go _in_ the Library," she answered, closing the book and placing it into a huge schoolbag.

"And where exactly should we go, then?" he asked, unsure.

Hermione nodded towards a spot above Harry's shoulder. He turned and saw a door that he had never noticed. "What's that?" asked Harry.

"Professor Sinistra's office," she said, as if that explained everything.

"And why are we going to see Professor Sinistra?" asked Harry, confused.

"Because, _Harry_, you said that you saw a shooting star, right?"

Harry nodded.

"And you made a wish on that star, right?"

Harry nodded again.

"Shooting stars don't have the ability to make wishes come true, even in the magical world. It's only a nice legend for children," she said resolutely. "But the fact that your wish came true means that something happened. And personally, I think that the reason is to be found in the planets."

"You mean that the planets are responsible for all this?"

"It's just a supposition, but I think that their influence shouldn't be undervalued," she said. "That's why we're going to ask Professor Sinistra if there was something strange in the sky in the last few days."

"Do you think that she'll be able to explain what happened?"

Hermione shook her head. "She teaches Astronomy, not Astrology, but as soon as we know something more, then we can do research in the Library. And then, there's someone else I want to ask, too."

"Who?" asked Harry.

"You'll see," she answered, walking towards the door and knocking on it.

"Come in," said Professor Sinistra from inside.

Hermione opened the door and entered, followed closely by Harry. Harry had never been in her office before; actually, he had never even noticed her door before that very day. When he entered, he found himself in a small circular room, with lots of little planets that fluttered in the air. The ceiling was enchanted, just like the one of the Great Hall, but it didn't reflect the weather outside. Instead, it looked as though it were night-time. A cloudless night where all the constellations were visible.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Sinistra, without taking her eyes away from a big fluctuating planet, which resembled Saturn.

"Professor Sinistra, Mr. Potter and I wanted to ask you something," said Hermione shyly.

"Go on, then," said Professor Sinistra. "Wait a minute," she added hastily while Saturn passed near Jupiter. She sighed in relief when the planets didn't crash together and eventually looked at them. "Yes?"

"We wanted to know if there was something strange with the planets in the last days," Hermione asked.

Professor Sinistra looked at her and smiled. "It's amazing to hear that at least there's someone interested in Astronomy in this school," she said brightly. "Your curiosity is like a breath of fresh air."

Hermione flushed, while Harry had to bite his bottom lip to avoid a fit of laughter. "Thank you, Professor," said Hermione shyly.

Professor Sinistra smiled again. "You want to know if there's been something strange in the last few days that mattered to planets, right?"

Hermione and Harry nodded.

"Well, actually there has been, but when I asked Professor McGonagall to spend the night on the grounds with all the students she answered that the stars weren't worth an entire night up," she answered bitterly. "But since you are interested, you can always join me this evening after sunset on the top of the Astronomy Tower."

"P-professor Sinistra, we're interested in the planets, but we would be more interested in what happened two days ago in the sky," stammered Hermione.

"Oh, but Miss. Granger, what happened two days ago is exactly what's still happening now," explained Professor Sinistra.

"Really?" asked Harry excited. "What do you mean?"

Professor Sinistra's smile became even wider than before; she was confounding Harry's will to know everything about what caused the wish to come true with his semi-existent love for the stars. "Mr. Potter, I'm surprised to see how interested you are. It's a pity you achieved only an Acceptable to your O.W.L.s in Astronomy."

Harry nodded, pretending to be ashamed.

"Professor Sinistra, I'm sorry, but our curiosity is killing us," Hermione broke into the discussion. "Can you please tell us what's happening?"

Professor Sinistra sighed. She stood up and, pulling out her wand from a pocket, waved it towards the ceiling. The planets that were fluctuating around them stopped suddenly, the sky became suddenly darker, and lots of stars disappeared, while others became brighter.

Professor Sinistra leaned against the desk, and while Harry and Hermione had their eyes fixed on the stars that were starting to move in a beautiful dance of light, she started to talk.

"Look at the moon," she said, and the moon became brighter. "Today is the last day of full moon, but that's not a big deal since it's full once a month, right?" asked Professor Sinistra.

They both nodded, with their eyes still stuck to the moon.

"And now I want you to look at the stars to the right of the moon. Can you see Capella, Hassaleh, Menkarlina, Headi, Zeta and Eta Auriga?"

Every time that she named a star, it lit up, so that it was easy for them to know what star she was talking about. Then a tiny filament of light linked these stars.

"These stars bring into being the constellation of the Charioteer," explained Professor Sinistra. "And this is their usual position, but lately something extraordinary has been happening." She waved her wand and the constellation moved towards the moon, while the moon moved towards the constellation.

One of the filaments of light intersected the moon, and then the aster slid in the middle of the constellation, and eventually it stopped half way out on the other side of it.

"The constellation of the Charioteer is intersected with the moon," said Professor Sinistra, excited. "Something that hasn't happened for millennia."

"And what does this mean?" asked Harry.

Professor Sinistra looked at him in the darkness of her office. "What are you talking about? Mr. Potter, it doesn't necessarily have to mean something. Witnessing the movements of the stars is a pleasure that doesn't need to be corrupted with an ulterior motive."

"But it must have caused some changes, on our lives for example," said Harry.

"Mr. Potter, in this school we study Astronomy, not Astrology. This thing doesn't mean anything, other than great interest from all the people that have a minimum of Astronomy culture," said Professor Sinistra firmly.

"And how long will this phenomenon occur?" Hermione broke in the conversation.

"Tonight is the last night," answered Professor Sinistra. "It started two nights ago. That's why I asked you if you wanted to join me on the Astronomy Tower to observe the phenomenon, which won't repeat for ages."

"Thank you, Professor," said Hermione politely. "We'll think about that."

"Sure, sure, if you have to study, I can understand, but let me repeat to you that this is something extraordinary," she said, waving her wand and returning the room to normal.

Hermione nodded. "We know."

Professor Sinistra nodded back and smiled again. "It's really great to see that you are so interested in Astronomy, dears," she repeated.

"Thank you, Professor," said Hermione. "We have to go now."

Professor Sinistra nodded.

Harry and Hermione returned her goodbye and exited her office. When the door closed at their back, Harry looked at Hermione. "We've wasted an important half an hour that we could have spent trying to find a solution for our problem," he said, sighing.

"We've wasted it?" asked Hermione in disbelief. "On the contrary, I think that this half an hour was extremely interesting."

"Hermione, we didn't have time for an Astronomy lesson right now, remember? We have a world to return to normal," he reminded her.

Hermione looked into his eyes. "Harry, will you please trust me? It hasn't been a waste of time," she said. "Now let's go, I have a lesson at last period and I don't need to be late. We still have to go to see another professor."

"Who?"

"You'll see," she answered mysteriously, walking quickly towards the stairs. She didn't seem very keen on telling him who she wanted to see. She climbed down the stairs and reached the first floor. She passed by the Great Hall and reached a small classroom, which was known by everybody by the name of classroom eleven.

Hermione knocked on the door, taking a deep breath. Harry would have bet that she was almost nervous.

"Come in," said a deep voice from the classroom.

Hermione pushed the door open and they found themselves plunged into a dark forest, as if they had just exited the castle.

"P-professor?" called Hermione, moving some branches from her path. "Professor Firenze?"

They heard the noise of hooves at their back, and when they turned they found themselves face to face with a centaur with long blond hair and blue eyes.

"Have you come here for the secrets of the planets?" asked Firenze, looking at them calmly. "Or for Auriga?"

"H-how do you know?" asked Hermione.

Firenze sighed and looked up. "The future is written in the stars, even if nobody believes it. We can tell things that have not yet happened, and things that have happened, but nobody knows," he said, looking intently at Harry. "Do you want to go back, young Harry Potter?"

Harry looked back at him with a mixture of shy reverence and surprised fear. "Is there a way?" he asked hopefully.

"I can't tell you that, but I can tell you a story," said the centaur. "A story that takes place at the beginning of the universe, when there was nothing but the gods, and even the gods were young."

Firenze waved his hand towards the ceiling, and the stars went out all at once. Then the constellation of the Charioteer lit up, but this time under the thin line that linked the stars one to the other, there was a drawing: a man with two little goats in his arms and another one on his shoulders.

"This is the story of Auriga," started Firenze.

Harry looked at Hermione and whispered, "But wasn't Professor Sinistra talking about the Charioteer?"

Hermione shushed him. "They're the same thing," she whispered back.

Firenze waved his hand again, and now some little figures appeared in the sky, and as he went on talking the figures moved like a cartoon.

"This story starts in times so ancient that even the eldest rock of the Earth wouldn't remember it. In the land where my birth was respected and frightened, and all the legends of the gods were spoken for the first time.

"When the king of the gods, Zeus, was still young, he was entrusted by his mother to two nannies, the nymphs Aix and Elice, to escape death from his father's hand, Cronos, who wanted to kill him, for a prophecy had named the little Zeus as the one that would kill him and become the king of gods. But the nannies didn't have milk to give the god, and so Zeus couldn't feed. They wandered the Earth looking for something to give him, whilst the cry of the little god reached every part of the world.

"Finally they came across a goat named Amaltheia, which had just given birth to two little goats, and so she had enough milk to supply her kids and the god."

Harry and Hermione stared at the ceiling as if they could never tear their eyes away. The little evanescent figures were beautiful, and were showing how Zeus was fed by the goat with such care that it was almost like they were alive.

"When Zeus became the great god that everybody knows, in gratitude he wanted to make his feeder and her two cubs eternal in the sky, creating the constellation of Auriga."

Firenze stopped, and now the drawings in the sky were back at the point where they'd begun, a man with three goats.

Harry looked away from the sky, waiting for Firenze to tell them something else, but the centaur didn't seem to want to go on with the tale. Harry wondered why the story should matter to them.

"Is this all?" asked Harry, a bit deluded.

Firenze looked at him. "Everybody knows what happened to Amaltheia, young Harry Potter, don't you know as well?"

Harry shook his head.

Firenze nodded. "One day, when Amaltheia was wandering through the forest, she broke one of her horns in two. The nymphs that found it decorated the horn with flowers, and Zeus promised them that from that horn would come everything that they desired. That's why they called it 'Horn of Plenty' or Cornucopia."

Hermione took away her eyes from the sky, where some little nymphs were dancing around a horn that was giving them inestimable treasures. "You mean that Auriga is the constellation of the Cornucopia?" she asked.

Firenze nodded. "It's exactly what I said, Miss Granger," he replied calmly. "And this constellation has just entered in collision with Selene, which has increased its power of thousands of times."

"And this means that it was this that caused my wish to come true, right?" asked Harry, realising it all at once. "It's because of this constellation, and its properties. I-it makes wishes come true."

Firenze looked at him without agreeing or differing. "You have to pay attention to what you wish, young man, because it could come true," said the centaur in a sad whisper.

"I already knew that," said Harry darkly.

Firenze nodded and looked up at the ceiling, where the constellation of Auriga was back among the other stars.

"What do I have to do to make things go back to how they were before?" asked Harry.

Firenze lowered his eyes to him another time. "The future is written in the stars. Even if nobody believes it, we can tell things that have not yet happened, and things that have happened, but nobody knows," he repeated. "But in the stars there isn't written what you have to do. They simply show you your path, but they don't give you suggestions on how to follow it."

Hermione looked at the centaur. "But if he makes another wish, opposite to the one that he had expressed previously, would things return to normal?" she asked intelligently.

Firenze waved his tail. "Stars don't help us, they look down on us and you have to understand them," he answered cryptically.

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks. "Okay," said Harry slowly. "Just a yes or no?"

Firenze shook his head. "I can't know. But tonight at midnight Selene will leave Auriga and everything will return to normal in the sky."

"And what about here? How do we make everything return to normal here?" asked Harry.

Firenze trotted towards the other side of the classroom. "The stars will be bright tonight, and it will be easy to watch them," he answered, before disappearing into the fake forest.

The door at Harry and Hermione's back opened and some third years entered, trying to search for the centaur in the artificial forest of the classroom.

Hermione pulled Harry's sleeve. "Harry," she called him, walking towards the door. "Let's go."

Harry tore away his eyes from the spot where Firenze had just disappeared and with a desperate sigh he walked towards Hermione.

"I'm terribly late for Ancient Runes," said Hermione as soon as they found themselves in the middle of the corridor, starting to walk quickly towards the stairs.

Harry seized her arm before she could climb the first stair. "Wait! What about the problem we have?" he asked, frustrated by the fact that she was more worried about her Ancient Runes class than their situation.

Hermione sighed. "Harry, it's clear that there's not much to do," she said. "Even Professor Firenze said so."

Harry shook his head. "No, there must be something."

"Harry, what--"

He placed a finger on her lips, shushing her. "No, listen. Tonight I'll go to the Astronomy Tower to watch the stars, and if there's another shooting star I'll made another wish."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply something, but Harry cut her off. "If you want to come, I'll be there," he said; then he moved past her and climbed up the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room.


	13. Staring at the Stars on the Astr Tower

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company is property of J.K. Rowling, and if I was J.K.R. I wouldn't have killed out quite a lot of characters in the last book (but I would have killed someone else.. )

A/N: So, another chapter to go and then this story too will be over. Quite sad, but after all that's okay—after all, this story has become an AU after DH… and I hate AU-s. Anyway, this chapter is the one that made me write _slightly H/Hr_ in my summary. So, what do you think? Enough H/Hr-ness for you? I just wanted something a bit fluffy, a bit realistic (if DH wouldn't have come out yet) and a bit awww! Did I get it? By the way, buuuh! My title is too long, I have to do something for it...

**>>NOTICE (PLEASE READ IT, IT WOULD BE VERY VERY IMPORTANT ****FOR ME): **I have a couple of things to tell you, my [lovely readers. First of all, if you are reading _"But Thy Eternal Summer Shall Not Fade"_ on this site, I have to tell you that soon I'll delete if from due to the fact that other two sites already have it and to the incredibly low amount of reviews that I'm getting here. It isn't worth updating it on this site. If you are interested in where to find it, you'll just have to ask (review, PM, e-mail, whatever..) me and I'll tell you, or [and this brings us to another thing that I was almost forgetting to tell you you can check out the links at the bottom of my profile in this very account, they will bring you to my various pages in those sites (and not to the homepages of the sites themselves). And then, another thing that I would like to inform you about… I've a page on **Live Journal**, which is almost **empty** and that I would like to fill with something. So, if you have questions, suggestions, critics or anything at all to tell me or that you wanna discuss about—about my stories or about me—just tell me, and I'll finally write something there. That would be lovely. Thanks a lot for listening to my blah, blah, blah-s.

To Lyndsie Fenele: Thanks for your important help. My story wouldn't be so good without you.

**Staring at the Stars on the Astronomy Tower**

Harry was leaning against the cold stone that covered the floor of the Astronomy Tower, staring at the stars with his green eyes wide. The stars were extremely bright that night, Firenze was right, but there were no shooting stars in sight for light years.

"Look Mr. Potter!" exclaimed Professor Sinistra. "That's the constellation of the Charioteer," she said for the third time that evening, always with the same excitement as if it was the first time that she'd seen it. She was leaning against the parapet and, from his position, Harry could only see her back tensed in the effort of watching the stars as closely as she could, as if she wanted to touch the sky.

Anyway Harry was now pretty good at recognizing that constellation, so he simply nodded and muttered a 'yes', without tearing away his eyes from the sky.

He was trying to catch every single movement in the firmament, and he had already cursed under his breath several times at the planets when some steps on the stairs that led to the tower captured his attention.

He hoped intensely that it was Hermione, because four eyes were always better then two, and because it was almost ten and he was starting to panic.

Professor Sinistra turned to see who was coming, but Harry didn't look away from the stars.

"Miss. Granger, I'm happy that you have decided to join Mr. Potter and I in this wonderful observation of the mysteries of the universe," said Professor Sinistra cheerfully.

Harry smiled and crossed his arms under his head.

"Good evening, Professor Sinistra," he heard Hermione reply. Then, before the professor could start another long and boring explanation on the history of all the names of the stars that made the Charioteer, there were other steps on the stairs and Professor McGonagall reached the top of the Tower. "Aurora," she called Professor Sinistra.

"Minerva!" exclaimed the Astronomy Professor. "I'm so happy you have finally decided to come and have a look at this extremely interesting--"

"Aurora," Professor McGonagall cut her off. "What are you doing on the Astronomy Tower at this hour and with Potter and Granger?" she asked, glancing at the pupils.

"Minerva, as I've already told you, there's an extremely important revolution in the planets and--"

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Aurora, we have a meeting in a few minutes, and we are all waiting for you. Did you forget it?"

"Actually, yes, Minerva," said Professor Sinistra heatedly. "We have a meeting once a month, while these phenomena are visible only once in a million years."

"Aurora, you have spent the last two nights out here, you already know this phenomenon very well," said Professor McGonagall, trying to sound reasonable.

Professor Sinistra bit her bottom lip and rolled her eyes; then, she turned towards Hermione and Harry. "If you wish to use my telescope, don't worry, you can use it," she said sweetly. "It's wonderful to see that at last someone is interested in this great…"

Professor Sinistra's voice faded away as she climbed down the stairs of the Tower, followed by Professor McGonagall. When the Tower was silent again, Harry heard steps coming towards him.

"You came," he said to Hermione, without tearing his eyes away from the sky.

"I was thinking," said Hermione calmly, looking down at him.

"Really?" asked Harry.

"You aren't doing all this only because you feel guilty for how bad you've behaved here, are you?" she asked quietly.

For the first time since sunset, Harry looked away from the sky. "No," he answered as calmly as he could. "Not at all. I admit that I don't like how I behave in this place, but it's not for me that I'm doing all this."

Hermione nodded almost imperceptibly. "Can I lie here with you?" she asked softly.

"I thought you would never ask," he answered, moving a bit to make some room for her.

Hermione sat down and then lay next to Harry. They both raised their eyes to the sky.

"I was also thinking another thing," said Hermione softly. "It must be extremely frustrating for you."

"What?" asked Harry puzzled.

"The fact that for the first time a wish that you make upon a shooting star comes true, you wasted it over something that you didn't really want to happen," she said.

Harry's eyes opened wide; he hadn't thought about that, not at all. And now that Hermione pointed it out, he thought that she was right. It was extremely frustrating.

"If you would have known that it would have come true you would have wished for Voldemort to be dead, wouldn't you?" she continued. "I would."

Harry was looking at the sky, but even if a shooting star would have fallen in front of him he wouldn't have noticed it, because he was too deep in concentration about what Hermione was saying. "W-wouldn't you have asked for your parents to be back?" he asked slowly.

He felt Hermione moving closer to him. "No," she said in a bare whisper.

"Why?"

"Because my parents are dead, but all the people that Voldemort could kill are still alive, and only with Voldemort out of the way could they have a chance of surviving," she said quietly.

"And you would sacrifice your happiness for the safety of the world?" asked Harry hoarsely.

"You are sacrificing your happiness for me," she pointed out.

Harry didn't rebut. She was right. She always was.

He felt Hermione's arm sneaking up his chest and resting near his heart, then she rolled on her side and turned towards him, placing her head near it. Harry turned a quite pink colour, without understanding why. _It's just Hermione…_ Then he felt something hot wetting his robes under Hermione's face. He looked down at her and saw that she was crying.

"He-Hermione?" he called her awkwardly. "Is everything alright?"

Hermione nodded. "Nobody has ever done something so sweet for me," she said between sobs.

Harry passed one arm behind Hermione's back and stroked her waist gently. "Don't worry, tomorrow lots of people will have done sweet things for you," he whispered into her ear.

Hermione nodded on his chest. "Have you seen a shooting star?" she asked, wiping away the tears.

Harry sighed. "No, not yet," he admitted. "And the moon will exit the Charioteer at midnight. I have to concentrate."

"W-what'll happen if you don't see any?" asked Hermione, fear in her voice. "Everything will be the same?"

Harry didn't answer, how could he know? He simply wanted to find a damn shooting star and make a wish.

Hermione moved slightly next to him. "Harry? You said that I'm attracted to Weasley, right?" she asked slowly.

"Yes, I think so," answered Harry, flushing. Why was she pulling out that at that moment? "I mean, you've never told me or anybody else something like that, but it's pretty clear, and Ron fancies you back, that's even more obvious and--"

But Harry couldn't finish his discourse about how much his friends liked each other, because when Hermione pressed her lips on his, Harry's brain blacked out for a moment.

Harry froze under her kiss; the stars in the sky started to go slowly out of focus, and a deep buzzing started to sound in his ears. It took him several moments before he understood that all he wanted was to kiss her back.

He brought down his other arm and hugged her tightly, pulling her closer to him. He started to kiss her back, sucking and biting gently on her lips. Hermione brought up a hand on his neck, stroking his sensitive skin. Harry caressed her hair and closed his eyes to concentrate on what was happening. When Hermione moaned against his lips he made his hand run down her back.

When they finally broke apart Harry looked down at her. She leaned back against his chest, letting out a soft 'wow'. Harry rested his chin over her head and nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione. "I didn't meant to, but you said that we are only friends and so I wanted to try to kiss you, now that I still have the chance."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry puzzled and almost completely forgetting the stars. His heart was beating against his ribcage as if it wanted to exit.

"I mean that, kissing you now, tomorrow I will remember nothing and it'll be like I haven't done anything, and we can still be friends," she said, smiling. "And you don't like me and I don't like you in that way in the normal world."

Harry took a deep breath. "Yeah," he said unconvinced. "I don't like you," he whispered.

"Good," confirmed Hermione, tightening her arms around his waist.

Harry felt a shiver running up his spine as soon as consciousness of what had just happened made its way in his brain. Why was he so troubled by a simple kiss? It didn't feel like that when he first kissed Cho. It didn't feel so _good_.

_I do__n't like Hermione, she is just one of my best friends_. Then why was his hand on her waist shaking? _I don't like Hermione, she is just one of my best friends._ In that case, why couldn't he remember what he was doing up on the Astronomy Tower? _I don't like Hermione, she is just one of my best friends. _He needed to remind himself that? What was wrong with him?

"Harry!" Hermione stood up all at once from his chest, leaving an empty sensation near him.

"What?" he asked softly, a dumb smile on his lips.

"Did you see it?" she asked excitedly.

"See what?" he asked, moving away a lock of curls from her face.

"The shooting star!" she exclaimed.

Harry's heart skipped a beat and his hand dropped from her face. He hadn't seen it. He'd been too busy convincing himself that Hermione was just a friend to staring at the sky. His face must have displayed a horrified expression, because Hermione looked at him worriedly. "You saw it, didn't you?" she asked in a bare whisper.

Harry looked at her. All the saliva in his mouth had gone somewhere, Harry didn't know where, but he was sure that it wasn't in his mouth because when he tried to answer to Hermione his tongue seemed stuck in his oral cavity.

"Harry?" asked Hermione; now her eyes were filled with pure fear. "You did see it."

"Yes," he lied, his own voice unrecognizable to himself. "Yes, I saw it."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. "Why are you so shocked, then?" she asked with a smile. "You made the wish, didn't you?"

Harry nodded and gulped, trying to come to terms with what he was doing. "Because tomorrow you won't remember the kiss anymore," he said, trying to sound convincing. He wasn't afraid that Hermione wouldn't remember the kiss, even if it had been a kiss that had to be remembered, but because she would remember it because the day after that it wouldn't change.

Hermione smiled and stood up.

"Where are you going?" asked Harry alarmed.

"I'm going to bed," she explained. "You've made your wish, and tomorrow everything will be back to normal. There's no need for us to stay here."

"No." Harry seized her arm and pulled her back down towards him, hugging her tightly. "Stay here with me, tonight. Please, don't go, just for tonight," he asked in a whisper, and there was something in the way he asked it that it would have been inevitable for anybody to do something else from what he pleaded.

Hermione smiled the sweetest of all the smiles. She lay down and laced her fingers with Harry's on his chest. "I can't wait to see the sun rising on tomorrow," whispered Hermione cosily.

"Me too," answered Harry.

At that moment the big clock of the school signalled midnight.

"Oh, hear," said Hermione sleepily. "Luckily you've already seen the star."

Harry nodded, and he really hoped that Hermione didn't hear his heart racing while she leaned there. He closed his eyes and tried to taste a bit of happiness with Hermione by his side, since he was convinced that from the next day on she would hate him with all her might. He had lied to her. He heard her breath regularize as she fell asleep.

A strong wind started to blow and clouds covered the sky. Harry tightened Hermione in his arms and kissed her forehead, before he too fell into a restless sleep.


	14. Welcome Back

Disclaimer: Not mine, even if I've secretly wished it was. lol!

A/N: Oh, I'm so sad! This story is finally over… I don't really know what to say, except for a big THANK YOU! Thanks to all the people that read and reviewed this story so far, to all the people that put this story in their Favourite and Alert Lists and in their C2s. You all really made my day with your lovely comments and your caring presence. And naturally, if you want to keep on reviewing this story (even if it's finished), just do it. I'll be me than eager to read and answer your reviews, when they'll need an answer. Well, as always my ramblings about my LJ have been completely ignored, but never mind (I know that sometime is quite boring to listen to my blah, blah, blah…). Okay, so, once again. I hope that you'll like this chapter and how it ends this story.

To Lyndsie Fenele: Thanks for your great help. I really appreciated it. Thank you!

**Welcome ****Back**

Harry was wakened by something that he hadn't heard in the last two days: a deep and continuous snore. He opened his eyes and found himself in his four-poster bed. He reached for his glasses on the bedside table and put them on, then stared at Ron who was peacefully sleeping in his bed, despite the fact that the sun was already quite high in the sky.

He tried to remember how he'd got to his bed, but his last thought was that he was holding Hermione in his arms on the top of the Astronomy Tower. He smiled as he remembered how her hair tickled his cheek and her fingers brushed against his own.

Ron let out a louder snore, snapping Harry out of his thoughts about Hermione. He pulled the covers away and sat up. Searching for his slippers under his bed he put them on and stepped towards Ron's bed.

"Ron," he called him. "Ron."

Ron groaned and turned on the other side.

"Ron!" Harry called him again, shaking his arm.

"Another minute, Mum," mumbled Ron.

"Ron! Wake up!" said Harry, raising his voice.

Ron opened his eyes and looked at Harry. "Bloody hell, Harry," he muttered in a still very sleepy voice. "What's the time?"

"I don't know," said Harry. He picked up his watch from his bedside table and checked the hour. "Ron! It's a quarter to nine!" cried Harry, grinning.

Ron buried his head back into the pillow. "Oh, bloody hell, I'll never manage to have breakfast before Transfiguration," muttered Ron.

"What?" asked Harry, grinning. "What did you say?"

"I said that I'll never be able to have a proper breakfast before Transfiguration," repeated Ron.

"Transfiguration?" asked Harry, almost laughing.

"Yeah," muttered Ron, looking at Harry with his eyebrows raised. "What are you laughing for? I'm sure that you won't get anything either."

But Harry wasn't listening to him anymore, he was laughing hard, so hard that Neville, who was in the bathroom, peeked into the dorm to see what was happening. Between the laughter, Harry brought a hand to his forehead and felt the familiar shape of his scar.

Ron looked at Neville, who raised an eyebrow to him, but neither could understand what was wrong with Harry.

"Harry, mate, is everything alright?" asked Ron, putting his bare feet on the floor.

As an answer, Harry laughed harder. Then something seemed to occur to his memory and he stopped as suddenly as he'd started. "Hermione!" he exclaimed.

"Hermione, what?" asked Ron, starting to unbutton his pyjama.

"Hermione!" repeated Harry, patting his forehead. "I have to talk to her. I have to tell her that I'm sorry."

"You are sorry for what?" asked Ron. "Are you talking riddles this morning?"

"Ron, who's the Chosen One?" asked Harry suddenly, seizing Ron's arms.

Ron caught Harry's wrists and freed himself from Harry, looking at him with his eyebrows raised. "You are, Harry. But what's wrong with you?"

Harry grinned broadly. "Nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong," he started to sing and walk in circles around the dorm.

"Harry, what did you have yesterday for dinner?" asked Ron, trying to shout over Harry's voice. "Something that came from Slughorn's office?"

"Slughorn?" asked Harry, stopping another time. "Sure, there's Slughorn, not Snape."

"Harry, you're scaring me, is everything alright?" Ron asked again.

"Sure, Ron," answered Harry, smiling. "I've never been better."

Ron shrugged. "Okay, if you say so," he said. "Are you ready? We are so late that, if we wait another bit, I think that Professor McGonagall won't even notice our delay since she'll think that we are ready for tomorrow's lesson."

"I'll be ready in a minute," said Harry. He put on his robes in less then two minutes, and before Ron could even see him Harry had already opened the dorm's door and was now running down the stairs.

He jumped the last two stairs and bumped into someone that was running down the girls' dorm stairs.

"Ouch!" cried the girl, falling on her back.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, stretching out a hand to help her up. "Ginny?"

"Harry!" Ginny took his hand and stood on her feet. "Late for breakfast, are we?" she asked.

"What about you?" he asked back.

"I've only forgotten a book," she replied, smirking.

Harry loved her smirk and loved the fact that she had just called him Harry, and that she hadn't pointed her wand towards his face. Without even thinking, Harry threw himself towards her and hugged her tightly.

"Whoa, Harry," said Ginny, hugging him back. "I'm happy to see you too."

Harry dug his nose in her hair and breathed her scent. He just had to remember who he really loved, before he saw Hermione. He didn't need to upset Ron, throwing himself towards their best friend.

"Hey, what's happening here?" asked Ron, entering the common room.

"Piss off, Ron," muttered Ginny, leaning against Harry's shoulder. When Harry let her go, she smiled softly. "Hey, Harry, what happened? Until yesterday you didn't even want me to stay around you; too dangerous even holding your hand, you said."

Harry shrugged. "Something made me change my mind. I don't want to keep my friends away from me anymore. Where's Hermione?" he asked.

"Is she going to get a hug too?" asked Ginny, half seriously and half jokingly.

Harry would have liked to answer 'maybe even something more', but he felt that it was better if he didn't open his mouth. He checked his watch and knew that he wouldn't be able to talk to her before the first lesson, but at least they had it together.

"I think she's already gone to her class," sentenced Ginny. "It's pretty late and she's never been late for anything."

"Did she look strange?" asked Harry, without even listening to her; he already knew all these things.

"Strange?" asked Ginny. "Not as much as you this morning," she continued, laughing.

Harry smiled too. "See you later, sunray," he said to Ginny, while he walked towards the portrait hole.

"_Sunray_?" he heard her say in an astonished voice.

As he walked down the corridor, Harry heard Ron's quick steps behind him, and both ran towards the Transfiguration classroom.

When they reached the classroom, Professor McGonagall had already started the lesson. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, thank you for joining us," she said.

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Professor McGonagall anticipated him. "The excuse that you got lost on your way here is a pretty old one, Mr. Weasley, now take your seat," she said firmly.

Ron darkened. "I wasn't going to tell her that we got lost. And bloody hell, what a good memory she has," he muttered to Harry while they sat down in a row of desks behind Hermione, who was sitting between Seamus and Hannah.

Professor McGonagall started to talk about human transformation into inanimate things, a very complex subject, but Harry's concentration disappeared after about thirty seconds, since Ron's rumbling stomach and the sight of Hermione were keeping his mind busy with other thoughts.

He was snapped out only when Professor McGonagall walked between the desks in the attempt of collecting their essays. He had to confess that he hadn't one, causing Professor McGonagall to give him a detention and to scowl at the fact that he was simply smiling. Hermione didn't even turn her head to look at him while Professor McGonagall lectured Harry in front of all his classmates; evidently she had been waiting for that to happen.

When the lesson was finally over, Harry shoved all his belongings into his school bag and, ignoring Ron, who was begging for a tour of the Great Hall for some food, he walked towards Hermione.

She was standing next to her desk, carefully placing everything into her own bag when he approached her. She looked at him and couldn't help smirking a little. "Problems with your Transfiguration essay?" she asked sarcastically.

Harry didn't answer. He pulled her towards him and hugged her tightly, even more tightly than Ginny. He glanced over at Ron and saw that he was looking at them in amazement.

"Harry?" she called to him, flabbergasted.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he whispered into her ear.

She smiled. "It's okay," she whispered back, patting his back. "I know that you are upset, and that this stay at Hogwarts is driving you mad because you would like to be out there fighting Voldemort."

"No," he said, releasing her from his hug. "I've been horrible to you and you were right about everything."

"W-was I?" she asked, looking at him, surprised. He thought it was because he couldn't remember the last time that he'd admitted that she was right, maybe because it had never happened.

Harry took her face in his hands, and closed his eyes. He came closer to her and placed his lips on her forehead, kissing her tenderly.

When he let her go, she was looking at him with her eyes wide. "Are you sure that you are all right?" asked Hermione.

"It's what Ginny and I asked him," broke in Ron. He walked towards them and placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder, looking at her. "He hugged Ginny, he hugs you," said Ron amused. "Luckily he hasn't hugged me, yet."

Harry let go of Hermione's face and smiled. "I'm just happy to see you all, is that so difficult to understand?"

Hermione shrugged. "No, I'm happy to see you too," she said, and Harry felt something like butterflies in his stomach. "Even if sometimes you can get on my nerves more quickly than anybody else." She paused for a minute, looking at Ron. "Except for Ron, though."

Ron pouted. "What do you mean?"

Hermione shrugged again. "Merlin's beard, I'm late for Arithmancy!" she exclaimed, walking quickly out of the classroom.

Harry followed her with his gaze until she disappeared. Ron's belly rumbled another time and Harry started to feel an emptiness in his own stomach as well.

While they walked towards the Great Hall, Ron turned to look at him. "You know, mate, for a moment there, I really thought that you were going to kiss Hermione on her lips," he said nervously, faking laughter.

Harry didn't answer. For a moment he had thought that too.

When they reached the first floor, Harry's attention was dragged towards classroom eleven, as if someone was mentally calling him.

"Ron, I'll be right there," he said to his friend.

"Okay, but where are you going?"

Harry ignored him and entered into classroom eleven. Firenze was there, staring at the door as if he knew that he would enter at any time. "Are you happy, young Harry Potter?" he asked slowly.

Harry nodded. "But I didn't make the wish. How could everything be back to normal?"

"The stars don't need us to make things happen," said the Centaur. "They don't listen to us. If they want a thing to take place, they'll do that, but humans can't influence their work."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Do you mean that when the moon exited the Charioteer, things came back to normal?" he asked.

Firenze looked at the ceiling. "In the stars there isn't written what you have to do. They simply show you your path, but they don't give you suggestion on how to follow it," he said. "Now go. And pay attention to what you desire."

Harry nodded, and exiting the classroom, his first thought went to Hermione. He could have never wished to have a _friend_ better than her.

- The End -


End file.
